


Take A Step Before You Leap

by silentdescant



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Closeted Character, Coming Out, Consent Play, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Self-Denial, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:34:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 41,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy has always insisted he's straight, but he’s an open-minded guy. He has all kinds of friends, and he doesn’t judge any of their actions or preferences. So why is it so difficult for him to accept his own attraction to Adam? This is the story of their relationship, from the first audition to the end of the tour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, I need to give a few very special thank-yous to my betas: andlightplay, for plot discussion and cheerleading; ciel_vert, for fact-checking all of this canon; and random_yayness for helping me fix everything and clean it up at the last minute. I couldn't have done it without these ladies. ♥ I also have to thank lambliffhistory and the awesome people at rat_bert for supplying such detailed information. And finally, thank you so very much to my artist, qafmaniac, who turned out some truly awesome graphics for this fic. Check out [her art post](http://qafmaniac.livejournal.com/140604.html) for more!
> 
> This fic has driven me absolutely crazy over the past few months, and I'm so glad to finally be able to share it with you. It's a story that's been in my head since I joined this fandom. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. :)

  


  
**OCTOBER 2009**   


  


He can’t hold it in any longer.

“Hey, listen,” Tommy says suddenly. His mother stops mid-sentence. “I got a callback today.”

She rolls with the change in topic. “You did?”

“Yeah. I had an guitar audition last week, and—”

“You never mentioned anything!”

“Well, it was…” Tommy takes a quick, excited breath. “I didn’t think I had a big chance. There were so many people there, Mom, it was insane. But I made the short list. They asked me back to audition for bass instead.”

“That’s fantastic, honey,” she gushes. “Tell me about it! Is it a new band?”

“Um, kind of? You remember that singer on American Idol, the one Jonna told me to watch? He’s been looking for a backing band. I guess she knows a guy who knows a guy or something; she told me to try out and I figured, why not at least audition, right?”

“Wait, baby, you auditioned for the boy who _won American Idol_?”

Tommy runs his teeth along his lower lip, hesitating. “No, Ma, the other one. Adam Lambert.”

He hears his mom inhale sharply. “He has a good voice,” she says carefully. “You met him?”

“No, he wasn’t—they just had like, somebody from his label there and stuff. They said he’d be part of the next round of auditions.” Tommy shifts the phone to his other ear so he can twirl the drawstring on his sweatpants around his finger. He almost wishes people still used phones with cords; he likes having something to do with his hands when he gets nervous.

“You know he’s gay, right?” she blurts out.

“Mom! Of course I know he’s gay! He came out on the cover of Rolling Stone.” He decides against mentioning the near constant media coverage of Adam Lambert’s sexuality on the entertainment channels and magazines. Tommy senses his mom gearing up to say something else, so he cuts off her rant before it can start. “He has an amazing voice, Mom. He’s gonna be big, and I think… I think I’ve actually got a chance this time. The label guys already liked me. I just need to show them I can play bass.”

He listens to her take a deep breath. “Of course you’ve got a chance, baby. You’re amazing. I just want you to be… _aware_ of the kind of attention you’ll attract, okay?”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “I know, Mom.”

“Have you met anyone recently?”

He rolls his eyes again at the pointed change of subject. “No. I mean, I’ve been, like, seeing people, but nothing serious.” He hasn’t been seeing much of anyone besides his roommates, actually, but his mother doesn’t need to know that he’s incapable of holding down a relationship. She’d probably take it as an opportunity to set him up with some girl from her book club.

“I’m not really looking for anyone right now,” he tells her. “I’m perfectly fine with being single.” Better single than with a girl that makes him uncomfortable, in any case.

“Are you still going to the gym?”

“I lost my membership,” Tommy mumbles. He doesn’t say that he cancelled it almost six months ago, and that he hadn’t even been working out for a few months before that. He’d already lost a lot of the bulk he’d been trying to maintain while he was in his previous bands, but he isn’t quite so embarrassed to be tiny and thin anymore. He likes himself better in eyeliner than he ever did in muscle shirts anyway.

“Tommy, if you need money—”

“I don’t. I’m fine. I’m paying my bills on time and I’m eating every day and I’ve got gas in my car. I’m fine.”

His mom sighs again. “Well, when are you coming over? Your sister’s going to come by this evening, and your dad’s out picking up some food—”

“Um, actually…” Tommy breaks in carefully. “I really need to practice. They want me to audition tomorrow, and I haven’t even touched my bass in months, so…”

“Oh, honey, but it’s your birthday! You should have your party!”

“I need this job, Ma,” Tommy replies. “I can’t stay at this fucking call center. It’s killing me.”

“Well, when is the audition tomorrow?”

“Mid-morning. I’ll just have a few beers with Mike and Dave and then practice all fucking night.” He looks around and sees the birthday card on the table. “Maybe we can postpone the party one night? I’ll bring the boys over and you can feed them all your leftovers.”

“That’s fine, hon, that’s fine. Tommy, you’re going to do great tomorrow, I promise.”

Tommy laughs. “How do you always know when I’m nervous?”

“I’m your mother. I know everything. Happy birthday, baby.”

After he gets off the phone, Tommy drags his bass into his bedroom and settles into practicing. He loses himself in it, playing song after song, over and over again as he gets a feel for the strings, until Mike comes in without knocking and flops down on Tommy’s bed with a groan.

“You’re awesome at that, but seriously, it’s like, one in the morning, dude,” Mike says into Tommy’s pillow. “Let me just give you your fucking birthday kiss so I can go to sleep, if we’re not going to your mom’s place tonight.”

“Sorry,” Tommy replies, setting his guitar aside. He flexes his fingers and realizes they’re actually sore. “How long have I been playing?”

“Long fucking time, man.”

“I haven’t played bass in forever,” Tommy explains. “Figured I need to practice more. The audition’s tomorrow morning.”

Mike lifts his head, eyebrows raised. “Dude, you’re awesome. You think you’ll get it?”

“I don’t know. It’d be good to get back to music, though. I hate my fucking job.”

“Everyone hates your fucking job,” Mike says. “The people who work there, the people you call, your roommates, when you complain about it…”

“Shut up. I’m just nervous, okay? It’s been so long since an audition’s gone well for me, and I was really kind of shocked to get the callback. I hope I do okay. Oh, and I told my mom we’d go over there tomorrow for my party. She said she’ll save some leftovers for you.”

“Free food! Awesome.”

“She loves you,” Tommy replies. “For reasons I don’t understand.” He gets up and packs his bass back into its case. “Sorry for keeping you up.”

Mike pushes himself to his feet and pulls Tommy into a hug. He gives Tommy a sloppy, wet kiss on the corner of his mouth and says, “Happy birthday. Break a leg tomorrow, man.”

***

Tommy wakes up unreasonably early on Monday morning, and even taking his time with styling his hair and lining his eyes in black, he’s ready far too soon. He slides his bass into the backseat of his car and heads to Chantala’s house, tapping his fingers nervously on the steering wheel the entire time.

The first words out of his mouth when she opens the door are, “Do I look okay?”

She rubs her bleary eyes and looks him up and down. “You look adorable,” she replies. “Why are you all dressed up?”

“I have an audition for Adam Lambert’s band in two hours,” Tommy says in a rush.

Chantala squeals. “Adam Lambert? Seriously?”

“Yeah. So, do I like, look okay? For an audition?”

“Oh, baby, for _Adam Lambert_ , you look perfect.” She gives him another once-over. “You’re wearing that?”

Tommy plucks at his shirt as his nervous smile twists into a grimace. “Yeah?”

“No. Honey, you’ve got legs. Show ‘em off.” Chantala takes his hand and drags him inside. They go into her closet, and she digs out a pair of jeans. “Put these on,” she orders him. “Then I’ll do your makeup.”

“I already put makeup on!” Tommy protests. He holds the jeans up. “These are girls’ jeans.”

“They’ll look hot on you, trust me,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And baby, you _want_ Adam Lambert to like your ass.”

“Oh my god.”

“Put ‘em on and meet me in the bathroom.”

Tommy grumbles as he unzips his baggy jeans and toes off his boots. The jeans fall into a puddle around his feet. Chantala’s pants are tight around his thighs when he pulls them up, and for the first time in his life, he thanks the universe for his flat ass; the jeans button easily, low around his hips.

He crouches down to put on his boots again and has to adjust himself in the tight denim. “Fuck,” he mutters, pressing the heel of his hand against his dick. “These are fucking tight,” he calls to Chantala.

“Get in here!”

She has all her makeup spread out on the bathroom counter, and she sits him down on the closed toilet lid and immediately gets to work. Tommy sighs but does as she asks, turning his head this way and that for foundation and blush and who knows what else; closing his eyes for eye shadow; looking up at the ceiling for mascara; looking down at his feet so she can fix his hair. He relaxes into her care, and he likes the way the various brushes feel on his skin.

At long last, she tells him to get up and face the mirror. She stands behind him and hooks her chin over his shoulder, grinning.

Tommy’s reflection makes his breath catch in his throat. Instead of just rimmed in black eyeliner, his eyes are surrounded by deep color that fades out to a mix of silver and blue, and it somehow makes his dark eyes brighter. She used a darker pink on his cheeks than Tommy had expected, and it makes his cheekbones really stand out. His hair falls over his forehead, like it had before, when Tommy brushed it this morning, but now, it somehow has more lift, more structure. It looks like his bangs are _meant_ to do that. He tucks the longer strands behind his ear.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Tommy breathes. He licks his lips.

“Hold up. Open your mouth.”

Tommy does. He looks like somebody’s fucking wet dream. A heated flush creeps up his neck. Chantala uncaps a tube of lip gloss and smears the wand over Tommy’s lips, first the bottom, then the top. Tommy’s stops breathing until she tells him to rub his lips together.

When he looks back at the mirror, his lips are shiny and pink, and he can taste the artificial tang of it even without licking his lips again. He can’t look away. “Is it too much?”

Chantala presses a kiss to the side of Tommy’s neck. “You look beautiful, baby.”

“Thanks.”

She kisses her way up to his ear to whisper, “Make him want to fuck you.”

Tommy stares at himself and can’t help thinking, _That won’t be hard_.

***

Tommy wipes his sweaty palms on his—Chantala’s—jeans before going through the door. He had planned on introducing himself calmly and not staring at Adam Lambert like a fucking obsessed fan, but as soon as he’s in, his eyes are drawn to Adam and he’s staring before he even realizes it.

Adam’s wearing black jeans and a t-shirt, and there’s a leather jacket hanging from the back of his chair, and… At first, Tommy thinks he’s not wearing shoes, but he realizes after a moment that Adam’s just wearing a pair of cheap flip-flops. His toes are peeking out from beneath the hem of his pants, and his toenails are painted dark, deep blue. Tommy tilts his head to get a better look.

“Tommy Ratliff?” someone asks. Not Adam. Tommy jerks his head up and looks at the other two men nervously.

“Yeah, that’s me, I’m Tommy.”

One of the guys stands up and reaches over the table to shake Tommy’s hand. “I’m Monte Pittman, this is Adam, and that’s John McIntyre, he’s from the label.”

“Monte Pittman?” Tommy repeats dumbly. He knows Monte—well, not the man himself, but he’s heard of him. He’s like, kind of a _famous_ guitarist, and he’s going to watch Tommy’s audition. Tommy drops Monte’s hand, looking at him with apprehension, and shifts his grip on his guitar case.

“Why don’t you tell us a little about yourself,” Adam prompts. “What instruments do you play?”

“Well, I originally auditioned for guitar,” Tommy says, “but the lady that called me said that position’s already been filled—”

“Uh, yeah,” Adam replies with a wry grin. “Monte kind of took your spot.”

“But I can play bass—um, obviously—and I know enough to get by on drums and keyboards.”

“You want to show us what you’ve got?” Monte asks, gesturing to the instrument case in Tommy’s hand. Tommy fumbles it and finally crouches down to take out his bass, and before he gets the strap attached, he pauses to take a deep breath.

When he looks up, he sees bright-eyed Adam smiling encouragingly and Tommy’s fingers falter on the strap. He shifts his gaze over to Monte instead. He feels slightly less nervous meeting Monte’s eyes, for some reason, but his stomach is still in knots. He finally looks over at the label guy, who isn’t even looking at him, and tries to calm down. He takes a moment to tune up before looking back at them.

They ask him to play, so Tommy plays. He gets into the first song and with every note, he gains confidence. By the end, he’s adding his own riffs, trying to show off his skills.

Once Tommy finishes and packs up, Adam drags over another chair and invites Tommy to sit down with them. The label guy stays out of the conversation, avoiding Tommy’s glances and making notes in his little notepad, and Tommy takes that to mean Adam’s in charge. It’s not hard to focus on Adam.

“I know you’re mainly a guitarist, but do you feel comfortable playing bass on stage? You looked pretty great, once you stopped being nervous,” Adam says.

Tommy laughs and shakes his head. “I haven’t stopped being nervous yet.”

Adam leans close. He smells like expensive cologne and hairspray, and Tommy leans towards him automatically. Adam gives him a cheerful grin and says, “You don’t have to be nervous anymore, Tommy.”

That almost sounds like Adam’s offering him the job. Tommy smiles back and feels some of the tension in the pit of his stomach dissipate. Adam turns his chair so he’s facing Tommy head-on. “How old are you? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Twenty-eight. My birthday was just yesterday, actually,” Tommy replies sheepishly. “That callback was like a birthday present.”

“Oh, really? Happy birthday! Libra, then? That makes sense.”

“Why?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Adam answers simply.

Tommy feels his cheeks flush. He basks in the flattery, though, and barely keeps from telling Adam the same. They talk for a little while longer; Adam keeps Tommy smiling and laughing, and fucking gazing adoringly, and when they finally stand up and shake hands, Tommy blurts out, “You have an amazing voice.”

“Aww, thank you!” Adam says, squeezing Tommy’s fingers. He sounds like he actually appreciates the compliment, which makes Tommy feel a little less like an idiot. “It was really great to meet you, Tommy. We’ll give you a call tomorrow or Wednesday, okay?”

Tommy nods and gathers his things, holding the guitar case awkwardly so he can shake Adam’s hand again. “Thanks. For, like, the opportunity and everything. Just… Thanks. It was nice to meet you.”

Adam waits until he’s halfway out the door, then says, “I’ll see you soon, Tommy.”

Tommy makes it back to the car before letting out a huge breath and shaking out his nerves in what even he can admit is more of a flailing spaz attack. He feels really good— _really_ good about the audition, about Adam, about the job, about life. He pulls out his phone and calls Chantala.

“How’d it go?” she asks immediately, her voice tinny and excited.

“It went good. I think it went really good. He’s like… Oh my god, Adam’s so great, Chantie. He’s really nice. At the end, he said ‘see you soon’!”

She squeals and laughs and finally calms down enough to talk. “Oh, baby, I’m so glad. Do you think you got the job?”

Tommy takes a careful breath. “Yes.”

“Are you glad I made you up?” she asks, and he can hear her smug grin.

He rolls his eyes and says, “Yes.”

“Did Adam want to fuck you?” she asks in a low, sly voice. The question catches him off-guard.

Tommy thinks of Adam smiling at him and squeezing his hand, wishing him a happy birthday. He takes a breath. “Yes.”

Chantala squeals again and congratulates him, keeps congratulating him even when he tells her it’s too soon. It’s not a sure thing, yet.

But it feels like it is.

He gets the call early the next morning while he’s at work telling him he’s got the job. The band meets for rehearsal in a week to prepare for the many upcoming TV performances. Tommy refrains from squealing like Chantala had, at least until he hangs up and escapes to the privacy of the empty men’s room. He puts in his notice at the call center that afternoon.

***

  
**NOVEMBER**   


  


After grueling rehearsals and a few amazing getting-to-know-you dinner parties, Tommy and the others—Monte, who he’d met at his audition, as well as a drummer and a keyboardist—actually start to feel like a band. A gang. And Adam, while he’s not always around because of his busy schedule, is their gang-leader. Tommy gets along great with everyone, and he’s so grateful; when he says as much to Adam, Adam says, “I knew you would. You’re a good fit for me. For the band.”

Tommy feels a thrill at Adam’s words. They’re heading into some designer’s studio for costume fittings—for a fucking _music video_ —and Adam slings his arm over Tommy’s shoulders, tucking Tommy into his side as they walk. He’s solid and warm against Tommy, and Tommy squeezes his arm around Adam’s waist.

The costumes are already made, hanging on racks, and they all parade into dressing rooms to change. Tommy’s consists of a mesh shirt and tight pants, all black, and he spins around in front of a mirror, assessing. Fabric hugs every line of his body, and he feels strange and exposed after the amount of time he’s spent hiding himself in baggy jeans and loose t-shirts. He feels even smaller than he is, especially when Adam comes over, decked out in tall boots, armbands, and some kind of waist cincher thing.

Adam grabs Tommy’s shoulders and squeezes, tickling him. “You’re so tiny!”

“Oh, thanks,” Tommy groans, crossing his arms over his chest. He’ll be wearing his creepers, though, which will at least make him taller.

“Aww, no, baby, you look amazing!” Adam says. “You’re not quite finished yet, though. Come over here.”

Adam leads him back to the rack and sifts through the hangers for a moment, finally pulling off something that looks like a web of chains and leather straps. Tommy raises his eyebrows at the… thing, and Adam laughs.

“What _is_ it?”

“Arms up,” Adam commands. Tommy obeys, and Adam sorts out the straps around his arms and head, and eventually they all stretch out and hang loosely around Tommy’s torso. It’s like… wearing some kind of bondage harness, except for the fact that it isn’t tight around his body. Tommy plucks at the leather.

“How does it look?” he asks apprehensively.

Adam ruffles his hair and kisses the side of his head. “You look fucking hot, Tommy.”

“Leather fetishist,” Tommy teases. He doesn’t feel particularly sexy, but he wants Adam to keep looking at him like this, like he is something pretty and desirable. It makes him feel good in some indefinable way.

“Not denying that,” Adam replies with a grin.

“Is that your whole costume?” Tommy asks.

“Not quite. There’s this big spiky thing that’ll be on my shoulder, but it’s not finished yet,” Adam says, making a vague gesture with wiggling fingers. He trails off and slings his arm over Tommy’s shoulders, hooking his thumb into one of the leather straps. “Come on, let’s go see how everybody looks.”

***

While they’re practicing for the video—in costume, early in the morning, in a nearly empty dance club, which is just surreal—Adam’s manager, a pretty blonde woman called Lane, breaks up the rehearsal and starts distributing Starbucks cups. Tommy’s met her a few times, now, and she always seems really busy and kind of intimidating, but today she sits down with the band while Adam and the video director go off for a private discussion.

They chat as a group for a few minutes, covering everything from the weather to the state of everyone’s families, and then they drift apart. Except for Lane, who sticks close to Tommy’s side as he moves to sit on the edge of the small stage.

“So, how are you, Tommy?” she asks, and for some reason, it sounds like a different question than the one she asked the group, even though it’s the exact same words.

“I’m fine,” he replies, a little nervous about her sudden interest. “This is gonna be a cool video. I’m excited.”

“Listen,” she says seriously, “I wanted to ask about you and Adam, if you were planning on keeping it quiet or—”

“Wait, what?” Moments flash through Tommy’s mind: all the times Adam has pulled him close, all the times Adam has kissed him, all the times Adam has smiled at him like they’re the only two people in the room. “We’re not—” he tries to say, panicking. “I’m not gay.”

Lane looks shocked, or at least surprised, and Tommy feels a flash of anger. “Oh,” is all she says.

“We’re not together,” Tommy insists. “Did Adam say something? Did he—”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “I just assumed, I’m sorry. The way you look, with him. Never mind, then.”

“No, wait, what were you going to tell me?”

She shakes her head, shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “Just to be careful. There’s a lot of eyes on him right now.” She hesitates, licking her lips in a way that makes her seem very unsure. It’s unsettling; she’s usually so on top of things. Tommy shifts his weight and cradles his coffee cup in both hands.

“Do you want me to let him know?” she asks carefully.

“Know what?”

“He’s been flirting with you.”

Tommy feels like he’s been dunked in a bucket of ice. A wave of coldness floods his body and he slowly sets down his cup. He can’t bring himself to look Lane in the eye.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Please tell him.”

It’s the coward’s way out, he knows. If he was a man, he’d tell Adam himself that he’s straight. The thought of doing that, though… The thought of seeing that kind of rejection on Adam’s face makes him queasy. He hates hurting people, even unintentionally—especially people he loves. And he does love Adam. Maybe not the way Adam wants to love him, but Tommy loves Adam in the ways he can: like a brother, like a very close friend. He barely registers the movement when Lane leaves him alone.

Later, Adam pulls Tommy aside as they’re gearing up to resume practicing, leading him into a brightly-lit, empty hallway. Tommy’s skin crawls; he knows what’s coming. The awkward conversation about misunderstandings and assumptions.

“Lane talked to me earlier,” Adam starts; he looks a little nervous, but his voice is even and calm. Tommy nods, thinking it better to just let Adam say his piece. “I didn’t know, and I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”

“You didn’t,” Tommy assures him quickly. “You never did. I just didn’t realize.”

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us,” Adam says quietly. “I really like you, Tommy. I consider you a pretty close friend. I’ll back off, and we can just forget about it, okay?”

“You don’t have to back off,” Tommy says, apparently lacking a brain-to-mouth filter. He blushes hot; he doesn’t want to explain to Adam how much he likes the attention, how much he craves it. “I just mean… You haven’t crossed any lines with me. You don’t have to change.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, sure. I… I like it,” Tommy replies, trying not to sound too eager.

Adam nods and his lips slowly twist into a grin. “You’re a really awesome guy, Tommy Joe.” Tommy can’t help but smile at that. “Let me know if I ever do cross a line,” Adam adds as he starts walking back to the main room.

Tommy hurries to catch up to him, and right before they go back out, he tugs Adam’s arm. “Hey, Adam,” he murmurs. “You can grab my hair and stuff if you want. It’d be cool, y’know? Pushing boundaries and stuff.”

Adam narrows his eyes, like he thinks Tommy’s trying to trick him or something. Tommy smiles as innocently as he can manage and follows up with a quote. He’d mentioned _Velvet Goldmine_ as one of his favorite movies during his audition, and he hopes Adam knows it well enough to place the line. “‘Rock and roll’s a prostitute. It should be tarted up.’”

It takes Adam a few seconds, but Tommy can see the moment he gets it. He breaks into a wide grin and kisses Tommy’s forehead roughly, a hard smash of his lips against Tommy’s hair. “You’re beautiful,” Adam whispers, whirling away in the next second. He leaves Tommy reeling from the kiss, riding the high of it, and Tommy feels so satisfied that he forces himself not to break the moment by thinking about what he just gave Adam permission to do.

***

Adam invites him to some event that night. He doesn’t really explain what it is, just herds Tommy into his car and starts driving. They drive for a few minutes, idly commenting on the songs on the radio, and then Adam parks the car and walks around to open Tommy’s door for him. He leads Tommy down the street with a gentle hand at the small of his back.

There are people spilling out of one of the storefronts, and Tommy assumes that’s where they’re heading. “What is this?” he asks.

“It’s an art show,” Adam replies shortly. “It’s for… a friend of mine. He has some pieces on display.”

The gallery’s crowded, full to bursting, but Tommy spots the bar immediately. He tells Adam where he’s going and slips away, leaving Adam to mingle. Tommy’s not quite sure what to do at an art show, so he shuffles around near the bar, scanning the crowd and following Adam with his eyes.

“You came here with Adam,” a voice to his left says. Tommy turns around and sees a man about his height with bright brown eyes standing there with an empty glass. The man gives him a slow once-over. “You are his type.”

“So I’ve heard,” Tommy grumbles.

“Two weeks, that’s a quick turnaround for him. Or are you just here to make Drake jealous?”

“Who? Wait, what?”

“Tommy!” Adam calls to him. He pushes through the group of people that separates them, smiling, but he falters when he sees the other man. “Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I never miss an opportunity for an open bar!” the man replies cheerfully. He leans in and kisses Adam’s cheek. “Besides, now I feel like Drake and I can really… connect. We have so much in common.”

“Brad,” Adam murmurs. Tommy recognizes a note of warning in his voice.

“So! You gonna introduce me to your new boy?”

“He’s not—”

“I’m in his band,” Tommy cuts in quickly.

“He’s my bassist,” Adam adds. “Tommy, this is Brad, he’s my… ex-boyfriend.”

Tommy’s mouth drops open. “Oh,” he replies awkwardly. Now that he knows, he kind of recognizes Brad from the pictures that caused all the speculation about Adam’s sexuality.

Brad holds out his hand. Tommy shakes it automatically. “Not his most recent ex, don’t worry,” Brad says. “I’m not jealous. Can’t speak for everyone, though.”

“Brad,” Adam hisses. He turns and smiles brightly at Tommy. “Come on, Tommy Joe, I want you to see some of these paintings.”

Adam pulls him away from Brad, who doesn’t look all that upset at being abandoned, and steers him around the room, pointing out things he likes or thinks are interesting. Tommy follows along for a while.

Then he asks, “Who’s Drake?”

“He’s one of the artists featured tonight,” Adam replies, not meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“Okay, but—”

“He’s my ex,” Adam says quickly.

Tommy freezes in place. “Are you… _using_ me?” he asks incredulously.

“No! No, Tommy, no, I just—I wanted to spend some time with you—”

“In front of your ex-boyfriend.”

Adam looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head, chuckling nervously. “No, Tommy, it’s not like that. We’re still friends. I’m still friends with Brad, too. I just…”

Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “You just what?”

“I just didn’t want to be alone here,” Adam admits quietly. “We just broke up a few weeks ago. I’m not using you to make him jealous, I swear. I just needed a friend tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Tommy softens at Adam’s miserable expression. “It’s okay,” he says. “Show me the rest of the paintings.”

Adam lays his hand at the small of Tommy’s back again, guiding him around the room. He introduces Tommy to a bunch of people that Tommy has no hope of remembering, and he whispers little stories in Tommy’s ear about how long Drake worked on a piece, or what it made Adam think of when he saw it the first time.

It almost feels like he is Adam’s boyfriend, even though Adam makes a point to introduce Tommy as a member of his band. He’s not quite sure how he feels about that. Tommy keeps sipping his drink and nodding along to Adam’s stories and tries not to think about it.

***

The week leading up to the American Music Awards is busy, but intensely fun. It’s only the night before the show that it really sinks in for Tommy: he’s going to be playing music on national television. He has to retreat to the dressing room to quietly freak out in solitude.

Only a few minutes pass before someone comes looking for him: Monte comes in, looking relieved to see him. “We want to run through one more time with the dancers before we go,” he says, jerking his head towards the hallway. “Come on.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” Tommy replies in a strangled voice.

“You okay?” Monte asks, stepping fully into the room.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy says. Monte gives him a look and Tommy sighs. “I’ve never played anything this big before,” he admits quietly.

“You nervous?”

Tommy shrugs. “A little.”

“You’re gonna be fine. Adam’s gonna have the spotlight, so don’t worry about anybody paying much attention if you mess up.”

“Yeah, except he’s gonna put the spotlight on me.”

Monte raises his eyebrows and gives him another pointed look. “You’re okay with that, right?”

Tommy’s about to answer with a shrug and an “I don’t know,” but Monte cuts him off.

“Adam’s a big deal, okay? This is part of the job. If you don’t want him pulling your hair, that’s fine, but you gotta be up there, and you gotta look the part. You told us you could handle it, is that not true?”

“Monte—”

“I don’t want you freaking out up there. Freak out here, now, but not out there tomorrow night, got it?”

“I can handle it,” Tommy snaps. “I’m just nervous. Jesus.”

“If you don’t want the spotlight on you, tell Adam not to pull your hair,” Monte says, his voice softening. “I’ll give you a few minutes, but don’t take too long, I wanna get out of here on time tonight.”

He turns to leave Tommy alone and he’s almost out the door when Tommy says, “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.”

Tommy takes a breath. “I’m not gay.”

Monte’s lips twist into a grin. “So I’ve heard.”

Tommy takes another breath, then another. He finally decides to just spit it out. “Did I get this job because of how I look?”

“Oh, Tommy…” Monte laughs a little, but it doesn’t sound like he’s laughing _at_ Tommy. “Listen, kid. I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re a performer, you’re seen on stage. Your looks matter, and you have the right aesthetic for the band. But you got the job because of how you play. You’re awesome at what you do and you get along really well with everyone. The fact that you’re exactly Adam’s type of pretty twink is just a bonus, I promise you. Okay?”

Tommy smiles sheepishly and nods; the fact that Adam thinks he’s pretty is a little bit thrilling, but everyone else thinking that way about him makes his stomach twist. It’s nice to know he got the gig based on talent, but that’s obviously not what the rest of the world will think after tomorrow night.

Monte gives him a curt nod. “I’ll tell them you’ll be out there in a few minutes.”

***

Adam looks gorgeous. He’s on fire, burning with a strange but familiar mix of performance anxiety and anger, and Tommy finds it hard to look away from him. He doesn’t sound his best, and Tommy knows Adam will stress about that later, but right now, in the moment of the performance, he’s amazing.

Tommy has to concentrate to keep his fingers on the right keys and the song flies by. All of the sudden, Adam’s climbing the stairs to his platform. Tommy looks up just in time to see a flash of rebellious passion in Adam’s eyes, and then—

Then Adam yanks him in by his hair and kisses him. Adam’s tongue is hot and insistent in Tommy’s mouth, pushing roughly past Tommy’s lips, and Tommy doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t kiss back, but he opens for Adam instinctively, melting into his hold. His knees feel like jelly; he grabs at the keyboard in an attempt to stay on his feet, but Adam’s hand is still holding him and Adam won’t let him fall. Tommy sighs into the kiss.

When Adam finally moves away, stalking up to his final position on the platform, Tommy stares down at his hands and doesn’t think about anything but the notes.

***

Tommy follows Monte off the platform in a daze, then Adam grabs Tommy’s arm as soon as they’re offstage, yanking him aside while techs and performers all rush around them.

“Tommy—”

“It’s okay,” Tommy assures him before Adam can even get the question out. He’s not quite sure it _is_ okay, but Adam needs it to be okay. Right now, he needs support and comfort and confidence, and Tommy can give him that.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Adam says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have just—I’m sorry, Tommy, I should have asked you first.”

“It’s okay, Adam,” Tommy says again, this time pulling Adam in for a hug. “You were great out there, and don’t you dare apologize to anyone else, okay? You’re awesome.”

In the corner of his eye, Tommy sees Lane frantically waving them over. Tommy pats Adam’s back awkwardly and forces out a laugh that sounds too hysterical to his own ears. “You gotta go. Rock and roll needs to be tarted up, right? It was awesome, and you didn’t do anything wrong, so just shut up about it and don’t fucking apologize.”

“I gotta go,” Adam agrees. He squeezes Tommy around the waist. “You’re so amazing, Tommy. I’ll find you later, okay?”

He watches Adam follow Lane out into the madness of cameras and lights and annoying people asking too many questions, then makes a beeline for the backstage bathroom, ignoring everyone that tries to talk to him on the way.

He shuts himself in and locks the door, and finally, _finally_ everything is quiet and still and Tommy allows himself to start thinking again. He catches his reflection in the mirror and walks over to brace his hands on the counter and lean forward. His brain his whirling; he can’t settle on a single train of thought, but outwardly, he looks calm, almost blank. As Tommy stares at himself, though, he sees his expression change. His cheeks flush, sweat dots his forehead, and all of the sudden he can’t seem to breathe right.

Adam kissed those lips. Adam pulled that hair. Adam marked his territory on national fucking television. Nobody’s going to believe Tommy’s straight, not anymore, not after this. He’s going to have to explain this to his fucking parents.

Tommy closes his eyes and pushes himself away from the mirror. He stumbles into one of the stalls and falls to his knees in front of the toilet, panting harshly. His heart feels like it’s going to explode. If Adam hadn’t held him, Tommy would have dropped to his knees in front of everybody. And he would have liked it.

Tommy retches into the toilet until he’s dizzy.

***

Tommy manages to successfully avoid his roommates and doesn’t turn his phone back on until mid-afternoon the next day. He has a few dozen missed calls and an insane number of text messages, and he can’t bring himself to check facebook yet. He calls his sister first.

“Oh my god, Tommy!” she cries when she answers the phone. “You’re like, big fucking news!”

“Lisa—”

“You looked so weird up there,” she says. “I guess I haven’t seen you in a while. How long have you looked like a fucking princess? I thought you were all hardcore and everything.”

“Shut up.”

“So are you gay now or what? Were you ever gonna fucking tell us, or did you think introducing us to your boyfriend via national TV was good enough?”

“Lisa! I’m not gay. I’m not. He’s just—He was caught up in the performance, he wasn’t thinking.” It’s the same shit he’d heard Adam telling everyone last night and it feels even less true now. “He just kissed me, okay? I didn’t fucking ask him to do that.”

“You know Mom and Dad saw that, right? And, like, the whole rest of the world.”

“I’m gonna call them later and explain.”

“Mom called me last night. She said she couldn’t believe you let him do that to you.”

“Oh, god—”

“She said she knew this would happen and that she warned you. What did she tell you?”

Tommy sighs and rubs his eyes. “She told me I’d… ‘attract attention’ or some shit, I don’t know.”

“ _His_ attention?”

“Whose?” Tommy asks, playing dumb.

“Adam Lambert’s, you idiot. He’s like, super gay for you, I bet.”

“He’s super gay all on his own, okay, that’s got nothing to do with me.” Tommy has to pinch himself to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that whispers something a little closer to the truth. Everyone’s told him he’s exactly Adam’s type.

“Well, we love you and shit, you were good up there. All your friends are freaking out on facebook. I’m assuming you’re being a coward and not reading all the responses. You’re like, totally gonna be famous now.”

“Yeah. The guy Adam Lambert kissed that one time on the AMAs,” Tommy intones. “That’s a great claim to fame, right there.” He listens to Lisa’s scatterbrained chatter for another few minutes before hanging up, and then he turns his phone off again.

***

  
**DECEMBER**   


  


By the end of the year, some of the hype from the AMAs had died down a little bit, although Tommy can tell it’s going to be one of those things Adam gets questions about for the rest of his career. Adam keeps telling people that Tommy’s straight and had no idea what Adam was going to do—which is true, at least, and Tommy clings to the fact that Adam’s sticking up for him and not trying to play the whole thing off as a publicity stunt.

They finally have days off between appearances, and it’s a welcome relief. Adam and Tommy have stayed close during this off period and grown closer, which Tommy hadn’t anticipated. Adam’s a star; Tommy’s just the bassist. He’d fully expected Adam to spend less time with the band once they didn’t have to meet every single day for rehearsals.

On New Year’s Eve, they have another performance. Adam keeps telling him that it’ll be a great party, and he’ll meet a lot of people. It is and he does. Tommy loves playing with Adam, for Adam, and if Adam knows anything, it’s how to work the crowd. He uses Tommy like a prop, a toy, drawing cheers from the crowd whenever he gets close to Tommy and pushes against him.

Tommy sinks into a weird zone, fully absorbed in playing his instrument but also… hanging on Adam’s every move. It’s strange, but he likes it. It’s easy. Adam manipulates him like he manipulates the fans and by the end of the set, Tommy’s following Adam around like a puppy.

After the show, they filter into the party and make the rounds. Adam introduces Tommy to a million people, and Tommy can’t remember any of their names, but he shakes their hands and tries to listen to what they say.

Eventually, after a good hour of schmoozing and several drinks, Adam says to Tommy, “You don’t have to hang around me, if you don’t want. You look a little bored, baby.”

“I’m not!” Tommy protests. He fails miserably at convincing Adam. “Do you want another drink? I could get us some drinks.”

“Go socialize,” Adam tells him. “Mingle. Get drunk. It’s New Year’s Eve!”

Tommy grins and nudges Adam’s side. “You sayin’ I’m too clingy? I’m heartbroken.”

“Yes,” Adam laughs. “Now get the fuck away from me.” He ruffles Tommy’s hair and wiggles his fingers in a cheerful wave as Tommy walks away.

He heads straight for the bar. He’s pretty buzzed already, to the point where he knows he’ll have to deal with a hangover tomorrow, but like Adam said, it’s New Year’s. It’s a party.

Tommy mingles around and finds the few people he does actually know, but it feels like the whole place revolves around Adam. He’s aware of where Adam is at all times, and Tommy keeps turning his head and glancing over at him, like it’s a compulsion. It’s as if Tommy’s a needle on a compass and must always point north. Every time he finds Adam in the crowd, he’s reoriented.

After a while the crowd gets to be too much and Tommy goes outside for some air. It’s kind of a mistake; it feels like there are more people outside than in, but at least there’s fresh air. He chats with some nice fans, answers some questions, even kisses one of the girls. It’s New Year’s, that’s what people do.

When he goes back inside, though, he sees Adam leaning down and whispering in some twink’s ear, steadying himself with a hand on the boy’s arm. Tommy watches them for a minute, sees the boy laugh and touch Adam’s sleeve, then goes to get another drink. He takes back everything he thought about casual kissing on New Year’s Eve. He feels unsettled, all of the sudden. He kind of wants to leave.

But the party’s in full swing, and Tommy’s riding with Adam and a few other people, so he can’t leave yet. Tommy pushes his way through the crowd in Adam’s direction with the single-minded intent of keeping Adam’s attention on him. He’s safe, he’s a friend; Adam can’t go off flirting with random boys at a party. Besides, Adam promised they’d spend time together.

The twink is gone, but Adam’s talking to a few other guys. One is very blatantly putting out and dropping hints even Tommy can pick up. Tommy shoulders between them and reaches up for Adam. He grabs Adam’s face and pulls him down for a quick, sloppy kiss, his tongue plunging into Adam’s mouth. After he lets Adam go, he walks away. He can feel Adam’s heavy gaze on him like a physical weight, which means Adam’s attention is back where it belongs. Adam’s gaze isn’t the only one he feels, either. Tommy goes to get another drink, feeling strangely smug.

***

  
**FEBRUARY 2010**   


  


“Adam invited a few of us with him to Mexico. A little vacation before we start touring.”

“Vacation in Mexico?” his mom asks skeptically.

“Yeah, y’know, like, there’s a resort in Cabo, and he said he’s gonna rent a boat or something. It should be fun,” he adds hopefully.

She mumbles something that Tommy can’t quite decipher, but he does hear the word “gay” and it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Jesus, Mom,” he says, trying to keep his anger in check, “I _know_ he’s gay. It’s not like we’re going to be sleeping in the same room or something. And he’s not gonna pick up some guy and fuck him in front of us, y’know? He’s a normal guy. We’re just gonna hang out at the pool and stuff.”

“Who’s going on this little vacation, then? It’s not just you, right?”

“ _No_ ,” Tommy replies, more forcefully than is probably necessary. “He’s got this girlfriend, Roxy, she’s really cool, and then there’s me and his makeup artist, Sutan, and another guy, he’s gonna be one of Adam’s dancers? His name’s Taylor, he’s really awesome. He’s from, like, Seattle or something. Apparently it doesn’t rain there as much as everyone thinks, but he said he’s totally in love with the California sun. He wants to get a tan.” Tommy suddenly realizes he’s rambling and clamps his mouth shut.

“And I suppose they’re all gay too.” Tommy bristles at the disapproval she makes no effort to hide.

“Taylor’s straight,” Tommy snaps. “We’re all just going as _friends_ , Mom. We’re about to go on tour together. We’re gonna, like, bond and stuff. We’re gonna _relax_ for once. It’s been almost nonstop for a while now. We need a break before we go on tour for a year.”

“Honey, he’s taking two straight boys to resort in Mexico,” she says stiffly. “Think about that. Just think about it, Tommy. Think about how it’ll look. What will people say when they find out? They’re going to think things about you that aren’t true, and you won’t have any proof when you’re denying it. You’re still the boy he kissed on TV.”

“I don’t need proof. Adam’s not like that. I thought you’d be okay with this.” Deep down, Tommy had been expecting this reaction, but he had dared to hope for something better. Angry tears prickle behind his eyes and he exhales sharply to clear his throat.

“Tommy—”

“I’m going with him,” Tommy says firmly. “I’ll talk to you when I get back.”

He slams the phone down hard on its base and stares at it for a few minutes. As much as it hurts to consider, there will be consequences once the press gets wind of Adam’s little getaway, or, more specifically, the company he keeps on his getaway. His mom was right about that, at least.

He wants to go with Adam and his friends—he needs the vacation, really—but fuck, the thought of what might happen makes his stomach churn. Tommy runs his fingers through his hair and tucks it behind his ear; the shorter strands just fall right back in front of his eyes. He’s too recognizable. If anyone sees him with Adam, they’ll know he was the one from TV, the one Adam kissed in front of everybody.

Tommy picks up the phone again; Adam’s number is half-dialed before Tommy even realizes what he’s doing. He hangs up and sets the phone down again. He shouldn’t cancel, not with this short notice. He’s already packed, anyway. And he _does_ want to go.

He calls Adam.

“Tommy! Hey! What’s up?”

It still kind of amazes Tommy that he can just call up Adam Lambert, like he’s not a famous rock star. “Hey, Adam,” Tommy answers nervously. “I was just, like, wondering… About Cabo, I mean. I mean—Taylor’s coming too, right?”

“Yeah, he just called me this morning, actually. Last minute packing anxiety, you know how it is.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Tommy chuckles and hopes it covers up how completely freaked out he is. An excuse is on the tip of his tongue: _Family emergency, I can’t go to Mexico with you. I’m so sorry, I was really looking forward to it, but—_ “So… tomorrow?”

“We’ll swing by your place around ten, I think? I’ll have Roxy and Sutan with me, but we’ll stop and pick up Taylor after we get you. He lives closer to the airport.”

“Sure. Cool. Awesome.”

“We are less than twenty-four hours away from sunbathing by a pool, Tommy Joe,” Adam says happily. “I can’t fucking wait.”

“Yeah. Can’t wait.” Tommy smiles—it feels fake, but it’s not like Adam can tell over the phone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow, baby.”

Tommy hangs up before he can put a name to the sharp thrill that spikes through his gut. _Adam calls everyone ‘baby’_ , he tells himself. _He’s called me baby a million times before. It’s nothing to freak out about._

He takes a deep breath. He still needs to pack his makeup and his bathing suit.

***

The time it takes Tommy to become close friends with the rest of their group can be counted in seconds. His gut untwists and he’s laughing, joking, playing with these people like they’ve known each other forever. He’s met them all before, briefly, at Adam’s birthday party, but that whole experience is a little blurry in his mind, and Tommy’s happy for the chance to actually talk to them this time.

The resort, when they finally get there, is amazing. Adam’s booked a suite with three bedrooms and a central area that includes a living room and a kitchenette, and there’s even a balcony with a gorgeous view. Tommy drops his bags in his and Taylor’s room and steps outside.

He hears someone follow him out and he says, “This is amazing. I can’t believe I’m here.”

“I know, right?” Adam replies, joining him at the railing. He leans over and looks down at the pool in the courtyard, then out at the ocean. Tommy bumps shoulders with him and tries to convey his excitement without speaking. “You ready to have some fun?” Adam asks, turning to smirk at him.

Tommy rolls his eyes. “What else am I here for? Fuck, yeah.”

They go out to dinner and the alcohol flows freely, then Roxy snags a few bottles of vodka and mixers on their way back to the hotel. By the time midnight rolls around, Tommy’s feeling pretty toasted. His cheeks are flushed and hot, and puffy from smiling so much, and his hair is starting to stick to his sweaty forehead. The others don’t seem to be in much better shape, and luckily Tommy’s at the stage of drunkenness where he doesn’t mind the ever-increasing volume of their conversation.

Roxy decides she wants to dress up, and Sutan jumps on that idea. He says he brought a few things of his own—not enough for full drag, but at least a skirt and shoes, and of course his makeup. He disappears into his and Adam’s room and comes back a minute later with a sly look on his face and a black foofy thing in his hands.

“You know who would look gorgeous in a skirt?” he asks them.

“Roxy?” Taylor answers. Tommy looks over at him and bursts out laughing, because Taylor is clearly thinking about Roxy wearing a skirt and nothing else.

“Pretty boy over here,” Sutan says. Tommy’s still giggling, so he doesn’t realize Sutan is talking about him until Adam cries, “Oh my god, yes.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, oh, he’s totally small enough to fit into my clothes,” Roxy adds, leaping from the couch and sloshing her martini all over her wrist. She goes into her room and Tommy can hear her rummaging through her suitcase. He tries not to look too apprehensive.

It’s Taylor’s turn to laugh; he laughs himself right out of his chair, in fact, and sits on the floor until his giggles subside. Tommy looks back and forth between Adam and Sutan, who are both regarding him critically, like he’s an art project or something. Tommy drains the last of his drink and leans back on the couch, spreading his arms wide in a bring-it-on gesture.

“Whatever,” he says. He figures he’s drunk enough to put on a skirt. He’s done more for less.

But then Roxy comes out of her room holding up some kind of white, lacey corset thing and Tommy does a quick reevaluation of his drunkenness. He’s pretty much gone, but he has a feeling this isn’t going to be an experience he’ll forget anytime soon. Still, he’s warm all over with drink and laughter, and he likes these people. He can be himself with them.

Tommy shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Adam pokes him in the ribs. “Shirt off!”

***

The next day, they go out in a rented boat, drinking and sunbathing and recovering from the previous night. When they get back, Tommy feels pleasantly warm, but also a little stretched thin. He begs off lunch and tells the others he needs a nap, and finally heads up to the suite alone. He’s not actually that tired, but he needs some time to regroup.

Tommy stands out on the balcony and loses himself in the view. He can’t even put into words all the things he’s feeling; he’s overwhelmed. He’s so lucky to experience this, and to experience it with people like Adam—like Sutan and Taylor and Roxy… It’s amazing, a once in a lifetime opportunity. He doesn’t think he deserves it; it’s too much, he’s just the bass player.

Tommy takes a step back and runs into the wall. He slides down it until he’s on the ground with his knees pulled up against his chest. He wants to thank Adam for this, but nothing he could possibly say will ever be enough. He never wants to leave. He feels like crying and he doesn’t understand why.

He hears Taylor come into the room and dig around through his suitcase, and then the footsteps approach and Taylor joins him out on the balcony.

“Hey, Tommy,” he says. Tommy can sense Taylor’s double-take, and he self-consciously wipes his eyes. His fingers come away wet. “You okay?” Taylor asks carefully.

“Yeah.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah,” Tommy answers. He gives Taylor a weak smile. “It’s just, this has been like, the best vacation of my life, and I almost didn’t come.”

Taylor drops gracefully to his knees beside Tommy and says, “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

Taylor’s smile stretches into a grin and he leans over to give Tommy a tight, comforting hug. “We’re going swimming,” he says when he pulls away. “You wanna come?”

Tommy nods quickly and pretends his eyes are dry. “Yeah, let me grab my suit.” _And clean up my face, and brush my hair, and redo my makeup_.

“Meet us down there!” Taylor springs to his feet and leaves with a cheerful wave. Tommy sighs when he hears the door close.

Tommy takes his time cleaning himself up, dabbing his eyes with a cold, damp tissue until he looks more normal. He redoes his makeup, pulls on his bathing suit, and digs through the closet for a fresh towel. He finally heads down to the pool with a black, long-sleeved shirt on and the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Has your skin ever seen the light of day?” Sutan asks as Tommy walks by him. Sutan’s wearing nearly nothing and his chest is shiny with sweat. Tommy’s gaze slides down his body, taking in his toned legs and muscled arms. He has some gorgeous tattoos, and Tommy can’t help but stare.

“Maybe once or twice.”

“I don’t understand how you live in California and still look like that,” Sutan replies, chuckling under his breath.

“By wearing clothes all the time. Duh.” Tommy looks around and sees Roxy sunbathing in her bikini a few chairs down, and Taylor swimming at the far end of the pool in his trunks. Adam’s sitting on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling into the water, and he’s wearing a shirt, at least, but it’s so loose and sleeveless that it shows off pretty much his entire freckly chest. “Unlike you guys, obviously,” Tommy adds.

“Take your shirt off and get in the water,” Adam calls.

Tommy grumbles a bit about undressing in the hot sun and the sunburn he’s already got across his nose, but when he finally steps into the pool, all thoughts of complaining leave him in an instant. He wades over to where Adam’s sitting and lets his arms float away from him. He feels like he’s dancing. “Why aren’t you in here, then?”

“I was in before you got down here. I need to soak up some sun.” Adam’s gaze slides lazily down from Tommy’s face and Tommy feels a tingle down his spine, like goosebumps.

He shudders as the breeze blows against his back and he wraps his arms around his torso, dipping lower into the water until it’s up to his neck. Adam wrenches his eyes back up to meet Tommy’s, looking a little guilty. Then he reaches behind him for Roxy’s camera. Tommy opens his mouth to object but Adam cuts him off.

“I’ll give you the rest of my drink if you smile.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, not giving in yet, and he hears the shutter snap. “You did not just take a picture of me. I’m not wearing a shirt!”

“Oops,” Adam replies brightly. “My finger slipped.”

“Gimme your drink.”

“You didn’t smile.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Adam leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. “Bet I can make you smile,” he says quietly.

“Doubt it.” Tommy presses his lips into a firm line. He’s already close to grinning, but he’s pretty sure he can keep a straight face for a few minutes longer.

“You look gorgeous. Your skin is so perfect and smooth, and it’s probably good that you keep it covered up all the time because otherwise someone would steal you away from me.”

Tommy blushes hot and breaks into a smile. He glances up and sees Adam grinning back at him. Tommy takes a breath and dunks his head under the water.

***

Everyone wheels their suitcases out to the sidewalk to wait for their car. Tommy hesitates by the open door, with the heat of midday Mexico blasting his front and the air conditioning of the lobby sending a chill down his back. Adam’s standing outside, several feet away, talking on his cell phone.

Tommy watches him talk, watches his hands as he gestures wildly and switches the phone from ear to ear. He’s stuck in a stupid daze until Adam clicks his phone off and turns around to face the group. Tommy makes his way over to him, and they’re far enough away from the others that it feels like they’re alone.

“Adam,” he says haltingly. “Thank you. For taking me here. I think I really needed it.”

“I’m really glad you came,” Adam replies warmly.

“Me too. I’ve had the time of my life, seriously. It was awesome.” He trails off uncertainly, then blurts out, “My mom didn’t want me to come with you.”

Adam doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look angry, but he’s lost some of that warmth. He looks… neutral and calm. It makes Tommy nervous.

“I mean—She doesn’t have a problem with—with you, or with… She just—She was worried about how it might look.” Tommy’s brain catches up with his mouth a second too late and his face flames red. It’s all too easy to fill in the blanks of that sorry excuse for a sentence, and he hurries to fill them with something… less blatantly offensive.

“Tommy, stop,” Adam cuts in smoothly. He puts his finger beneath Tommy’s chin and tilts his face up, so their eyes can meet. “Did you want to come?”

“Yes!” Tommy answers immediately. “And I’m so glad I did. It’s been—It’s been _amazing_ , being here with you. I feel… I feel really good when I’m with you.”

Adam’s smile returns and he welcomes Tommy into his arms. “Baby, I just want you to be happy,” he says quietly. He presses his lips to Tommy’s temple and Tommy relaxes into his embrace. He never, _ever_ wants to leave this place.

“I am,” he whispers against Adam’s chest. “I really am.”

***


	2. Chapter 2

  
**APRIL**   


“Hey, Tommy, c’mere, I want you to meet some people.”

Tommy stuffs his phone back into his pocket and looks around for Adam. He’s standing with a bunch of people Tommy recognizes from parties and photos, but he’s never been good at remembering names. He goes over to them.

“Tommy Joe!” Brad says cheerfully. He looks ridiculous with his weird feathered headdress, but Tommy thinks most of the people on this video set look ridiculous, so he fits right in.

“You guys have met, right?” Adam says. “Brad was at my birthday party.”

“I know who he is,” Tommy says quickly. Brad was at the party, but Tommy remembers the first time they’d met, at that art show. He gives Brad a weak smile.

“I guess I didn’t get a chance to tell you before,” Brad says. “You looked great on TV. And I heard Adam took you to Cabo.”

“ _Bradley_ ,” Adam hisses.

“Thanks,” Tommy replies slowly. “Yeah, it was fun.”

“Ooh, I think I’m in trouble,” Brad says, smirking up at Adam. “Baby, can I talk to you for a second? Over there?”

Adam grabs Brad’s arm and pulls him away from the group. Tommy introduces himself to the others—their names slip past him; he’s too focused on watching Adam back Brad up against a tree. Brad doesn’t look cowed there, though; he crosses his arms over his chest and stares Adam down until Adam finally shuts up. Tommy makes his excuses to the group and wanders closer to eavesdrop.

“You never fucking learn,” Brad’s saying. “Don’t you think the press has had enough of your heartbreak?”

“You would fucking know, wouldn’t you?” Adam snaps.

“I did not break your goddamn heart, Adam, so shut the fuck up. You left me, remember? But that’s not my point. At least that breakup was a _real_ breakup. As bad as it got between us, I am still a better choice than he—”

“It’s not a fucking choice! He’s my friend, and Kris was my friend, and that’s _fine_ with me.”

“Yeah, your feelings for them are _totally_ platonic,” Brad says, rolling his eyes. He uncrosses his arms and sighs, then crosses them again. “Everyone’s already teasing you for liking Kris; you don’t need that again. These guys will _never_ love you back, and you’ll _never_ get what you want.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adam says, “and I can like whoever I want to like. You don’t have any claim to me anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!” Brad replies shrilly. “I’m trying to keep your fucking heart from breaking again. This is a mistake and you know I’m right.”

“You’re not,” Adam insists. “Now go back over there and play nice.”

Brad gives Adam a hard glare and says something Tommy isn’t close enough to hear, but it makes Adam’s expression soften. He leans in and kisses Brad’s forehead, and then Brad slips out from between Adam and the tree and heads back to his friends. Adam sighs deeply and walks away a moment later.

Tommy backs up against his own tree and tries not to freak out. They were obviously talking about him, but Tommy’s not sure if that means Adam’s in love with him, or if Brad really was off base.

Adam flirted with him when they met, and Tommy told him no. He told everyone he’s straight. That’s the end of that. It has to be the end.

***

  
**JUNE**   


Rehearsals leading up to the tour are intense, so the first show feels like a big sigh of relief for all of them. It’s an amazing show, and it’s going to be an amazing tour, and Tommy feels like his fantasies of being in a successful band are finally becoming a reality. Somehow it’s more real to him now than it ever was when they played on TV or those one-off events. Being a touring musician is Tommy’s dream.

Adam insists on taking the whole gang out to celebrate. Everyone’s there; the band, the dancers, the techs and the road crew, and even several of the fans. Tommy’s had several drinks already and he’s feeling clingy and happy, but he’s not the only one laughing a little too loud or leaning a little too close. He settles back into his chair with his beer and watches the dancers take over the floor with more enthusiasm and energy than should be possible after playing a full-length show.

Adam gets up after a few minutes and Brooke draws him in, twining her arms around his neck and straddling his thigh. Adam rests his hands at the small of her back and throws his head back to laugh delightedly. Tommy lets his eyes wander over the long, smooth curves of Brooke’s body, wrapped all around Adam’s. They make a pretty picture. Tommy finds his eyes skipping over to Adam’s sweat-shiny biceps and thick, muscular thighs more often than Brook’s chest, though.

Tommy takes a healthy swig of his beer. He watches them dance until Adam makes his way back over to their table and extends his hand to Tommy with a smile. Tommy raises his eyebrows. Adam snatches Tommy’s beer, drains it, and slams it down on the table, then reaches for Tommy again, fingers twitching in a “come here” gesture.

With a put-upon sigh, Tommy accepts Adam’s hand and follows him out into the middle of the dance floor. People press in around them and Tommy shrinks back, melting into the safe circle of Adam’s arms. Adam laughs low in Tommy’s ear and rests both hands on Tommy’s hips, starting to guide him into the rhythm of the song.

Tommy can feel the bulge of Adam’s dick against his ass—Adam doesn’t seem to mind Tommy all up in his business, so Tommy ignores it. He moves with Adam’s hands, concentrates on the music and not all the people surrounding them, and finds the beat. It becomes the one clear thing in Tommy’s head, and he shuts everything else out to concentrate on dancing. If performing in front of an audience has taught him anything, it’s that being self-conscious and unsure is an instant turn-off.

Tommy sways and rocks his hips to the music, letting all the other noise bleed out and fade away, and he’s grinding back against Adam’s dick before he even realizes what’s happening. Adam moves with him, pressing against him from shoulder to thigh, and Tommy relaxes despite the intimacy of the position. Adam’s hands slide around further, bracketing Tommy’s dick; one rests low on his belly, and Adam’s thumb is creeping up under Tommy’s shirt, and the other hand is curving along Tommy’s leg and tracing the crease of his thigh.

Tommy reaches back with both hands and pulls Adam’s head down, and Adam obligingly starts licking a spot on the side of Tommy’s neck. Tommy lets Adam’s hips guide his motions; Adam’s slowly swaying and rolling forward in a full-body thrust and Tommy just rides it out, his body going limp and pliant, and his eyes slide closed.

Adam’s mouth on his neck is a bright spot of heat even in the sweat-damp air of the club, and Tommy drops his head back against Adam’s opposite shoulder, giving Adam more room. Adam flicks his tongue teasingly over Tommy’s skin as he moves around, lower, and he eventually picks a new spot and starts licking and sucking there.

When Tommy feels the sharp scrape of Adam’s teeth, he gasps. His eyes fly open and he’s shocked to realize they’re still in the middle of a crowded club, and Adam’s cock is rock hard and digging into the crease of his ass through their tight pants. Tommy’s hands clench in Adam’s hair for a brief second, and then he lets go and drops his arms to his sides, already squirming out of Adam’s grasp.

He weaves through the crowd and when he reaches the edge of the dance floor, he scans the tables for the rest of the group. Most of them are out dancing, and Monte and Cam are leaning close together to hear each other over the music. Tommy starts toward them, but then Cam looks up. Her gaze slides from Tommy to Adam, whose presence Tommy can feel behind him—physically _feel_ , like a vibrating hum of energy that makes the hairs on his arms stand up—and Tommy bolts toward the bathrooms.

There are two guys standing at the urinals; Tommy hurries past and locks himself into the tiny stall at the end of the row, as far away from them as possible. He sinks down and sits on the toilet seat, and covers his face with his hands, breathing harshly. He hears the main door open and the loud burst of sound from the club, and then Adam’s storming into the bathroom.

Tommy sees Adam’s ridiculous snakeskin boots stop in front of his stall. There’s a muffled thud as Adam leans against the door. Tommy lifts his head and stares at the scratched and Sharpie’d names on the metal.

“Tommy,” Adam says. “I’m sorry. Are you alright? I don’t know—I’m sorry, okay? Tell me what I did and I won’t ever do it again, I promise. I just… Tell me, Tommy. I don’t _know_.”

Tommy opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Talk to me, baby, please. Are you okay? Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Come on, baby, say something.”

“It—It wasn’t you,” Tommy finally replies. “I’m fine. I just want to be alone for a minute, okay? Just for a minute. It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like my fault,” Adam murmurs. The bathroom door opens and closes again, and then it’s totally silent. Tommy guesses they’re actually alone this time.

“I need to be alone right now,” Tommy whispers. “Please.”

Adam sighs and the door squeaks as he shifts against it. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

“I don’t know.” Tommy can’t even think of anything beyond the next five minutes, and all he wants for the next five minutes is to sit quietly and erase the feel of Adam against him from his mind. “I’ll find my own way if I go. You’re having fun, you should stay.”

“No, Tommy,” Adam says. “If you go, get someone to go with you, okay? It doesn’t have to be me if you don’t want, but I don’t think you go by yourself.”

Tommy closes his eyes tightly. Adam’s _presence_ is driving him crazy; all he can think of is the solid muscles of his chest and the hard bulge of his dick against Tommy’s ass. He grits his teeth and rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Can you leave me alone now, please?”

Adam takes a breath. He says, “I’m sorry,” and then Tommy listens to him crossing the bathroom and leaving. The door closes behind him and Tommy’s left in silence. He exhales sharply. When he’s absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure that he’s really alone, Tommy whispers, “I’m sorry too.”

***

Things don’t stay awkward between them for long. By the next show, Adam’s back to invading Tommy’s personal space and tucking him under his arm as they walk side by side. Tommy’s glad he didn’t ruin their friendship, at least, and it’s nice to be treated the way Adam treats him.

He gets Adam’s approval on his makeup before each show, and Adam says, always and without fail, that he looks gorgeous. During sound checks, Tommy turns toward Adam and plays for him, and Adam returns the favor by singing to him and ruffling his hair. When Tommy has an idea for the performance, or about a particular song, Adam listens to him. Monte, too, but it’s Adam’s undivided attention that really stands out. He could easily brush off Tommy’s thoughts; he’s just the hired bassist. But he doesn’t.

Tommy spends his evenings watching movies or TV shows with the troupe, and he snuggles under Adam’s arm because Adam is warm and appreciates the cuddling, and he makes an excellent pillow. Adam likes to stroke his fingers through Tommy’s hair, which has put Tommy to sleep in Adam’s lap more than once.

When they’re out exploring the cities before the shows, Tommy sticks close to Adam’s side so he can listen to Adam’s stories about seeing the world during his cruise ship gig, or experiences he’s had touring with his theater groups. Adam’s full of stories and he loves to talk, and he seems to appreciate Tommy’s attention. Tommy’s only too happy to give it.

If something in a shop window catches Tommy’s eye, Adam’s the one who says “Hey, let’s stop in here for a minute.” He’s usually the one waiting outside the dressing room, too. He looks Tommy up and down, but it never makes Tommy feel uncomfortable. Tommy poses in the touristy t-shirts and expensive jackets like a model, complete with disaffected gaze and glossy pout, and Adam tells him honestly if it looks good or not.

It’s not until the fourth new coat gets packed into Tommy’s suitcase that Tommy even notices that Adam’s going out of his way to buy him things. _Expensive_ things. He’s got a pair of sparkly new sunglasses and a silver pendant in his toiletries bag as well. He goes into Adam’s dressing room that evening with his arms crossed.

“Why do you keep buying me things?”

“What things?” Adam asks, taking a sip of his tea.

“Clothes, jewelry, I don’t know. I suddenly have a bunch of designer shit I didn’t have before.”

Adam shrugs. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize. Does it bother you?”

Tommy ignores the question; he’s not really sure of the answer. “But why? I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do,” Adam replies. “I’ve bought everyone souvenirs, Tommy Joe. You happen to look gorgeous in pretty much every piece of clothing you try on, so why shouldn’t you have it? You wanted it, didn’t you?”

“I guess…”

Adam stands up and comes over to him. He towers over Tommy—it’s unintentional, Tommy’s sure, but it’s a little unnerving to be caught under Adam’s spell like this, when he can so easily be physically overpowered. Tommy shrinks back against the door and stares up at him. Adam runs his fingers gently through Tommy’s bangs.

“I like your hair tonight. Pretty.”

“Thanks,” Tommy whispers.

“If it bothers you, I’ll stop. I just like making people happy,” Adam says quietly. “Especially you. I like making you smile. You look so beautiful when you smile.”

Just hearing the words makes Tommy smile. He blushes and ducks his head, embarrassed.

“Like that,” Adam laughs. “I love that.”

Tommy lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Thanks, I guess.”

Adam nudges Tommy’s arm. “Go and get ready. I’ve got to get my makeup done. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tommy leaves the dressing room, but he doesn’t get far. He stops in the middle of the hallway and leans against the wall, barely holding in a giggle. Adam likes making him happy, and he’s really good at it, but more than that, he makes Tommy feel special. Beautiful. He makes Tommy feel wanted, even though Tommy can never return Adam’s feelings. Tommy recognizes that Adam’s already doing wonders for his self-confidence.

***

Tommy slings his arm over Adam’s shoulders, which, wow, is harder than he expected; when did Adam get so fucking tall? Tommy pushes up onto his toes and readjusts, and then presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of Adam’s jaw. He gives Adam a second kiss, but it falls kind of on the underside of his chin.

“Baby,” Adam murmurs, laughing as he winds his arm around Tommy’s waist. “What’re you doing?”

“Kissin’ you,” Tommy replies. It’s really sort of obvious, and he’s not sure why Adam’s asking.

“You’re my favorite straight boy,” Adam whispers in his ear, like a secret. Tommy grins and catches Adam’s lips while he’s leaning down a little, and Adam slides his tongue into Tommy’s mouth.

“I fuckin’,” Tommy starts, but he’s not entirely sure where that sentence was heading. “I fuckin’ love you,” he says instead. It’s true, in any case. “Kiss me some more.”

Adam obliges, threading his fingers through Tommy’s hair to tilt his head just the right amount, and then they’re making out, tongues and teeth and everything, and Tommy lets himself drift forward until he’s pressed all up against Adam’s chest and Adam’s the only thing holding him upright.

“You need to go to bed,” Adam says breathlessly, when he finally pulls back. Tommy keeps his head tilted like Adam had it, keeps his lips pouted in case Adam comes back to the kissing, but then Adam pets Tommy’s hair flat again and apparently the kissing time is over.

“I’m not tired,” Tommy says, which is a lie, but he doesn’t like to think about leaving Adam—leaving the party so early.

“You’re fuckin’ wasted, TJ,” Adam murmurs, low in Tommy’s ear. “Can you get to your room on your own?”

“Don’t wanna go to my fuckin’ room,” Tommy replies petulantly. He doesn’t understand why Adam wants him to leave. “I thought you liked me. I’m your favorite.”

“You are my favorite,” Adam says, “and that’s why I need to put you to bed before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Not gonna. I don’t wanna fucking _leave_ —” Tommy wrenches himself out of Adam’s arms and trips on his own fucking shoe, which sends him crashing into a potted palm tree. He grabs at it, and Adam grabs at him, and somehow everything stays vertical. Tommy pushes at Adam’s arms, which hold him tightly again. “Why’re you making me leave?”

“Baby, calm down,” Adam says quietly.

“It’s not like—like you’re not like, fuckin’… fuckin’ drunk—”

“Tommy, Tommy Joe, calm down, I don’t want you to leave, I just don’t want you to do something you’ll regret in the morning.”

Tommy lets that explanation sink in and relaxes in Adam’s arms. Adam’s warm and strong, and Tommy nuzzles his shoulder a little.

“Come with me,” he murmurs. “Want you with me. Kiss me s’more.”

“Tommy, stop, Tommy—” Adam says, suddenly holding him at arm’s distance. “Listen, baby, I’m all for making out, but… I can’t do this with you, alright? Why don’t we get you up to your room, okay?”

“You’re fuckin’ drunk,” Tommy protests. “C’mon, you like me. You like me, don’t you?”

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Adam says under his breath. “Come on, I’m taking you upstairs.”

Adam leads the way, Tommy stumbling along half under Adam’s arm, and by the time they’re lurching out of the elevator and down the hall like they’re in a three-legged race, Tommy’s starting to feel a little bit sick. A wave of embarrassment and bad feeling washes over him and the alcohol isn’t helping at all, and he almost falls to his knees when they finally reach his door. Adam leans down and digs around in Tommy’s front pocket for his key card, and then he practically carries Tommy to the bed.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Adam asks sadly. He’s kneeling beside the bed, petting Tommy’s hair. It sounds like a rhetoric question, so Tommy doesn’t answer. Tommy thinks he’s about to fall asleep, but he really doesn’t want to. He paws at Adam’s forearm.

“Kiss me. I like it.”

“I can’t.”

“I’m your favorite. You said so.”

“You’re totally my favorite, TJ, but why you gotta be such a tease, huh?” Adam asks softly.

Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. He opens his eyes when he realizes they’re closed. Adam looks a little glassy-eyed, but he’s obviously nowhere near as wasted as Tommy is himself.

“Sorry. Don’t wanna be.”

“Yeah,” Adam sighs. “Me either.” He leans over and kisses Tommy’s forehead. “Sleep it off, baby.”

***

  
**JULY**   


The shows start heating up after that. It starts with Tommy leaning against Adam while he plays, which is becoming their signature move. It progresses quickly into Adam playing with him like Tommy plays his bass; Adam teases him with quick little touches, pulls his hair, drags Tommy back against his chest, and, eventually, kisses him during Fever. Tommy grins at Adam when they pull apart, and he blushes fiercely as they continue the song, staring down at his hands on his instrument.

It doesn’t occur to Tommy to freak out about the kiss until after the show, and then he and Adam are answering questions from fans about it. It’s fanservice, Adam says, and Tommy adopts his answer. He tells the fans he’s straight, but he’s cool with the kissing, and it’s true enough that they sometimes believe him.

Of course, it doesn’t take long for the kisses to become their new signature move. Tommy finds himself looking forward to it, waiting for those opening notes with bated breath. He likes the feel of Adam’s lips and the taste of his tongue, and that’s okay, because he’s straight. As long as it’s onstage, it’s fine. It’s fanservice.

***

Adam eventually confronts him about it. He takes Tommy into his bedroom on the bus and locks the door behind them, and he says, “I need to make sure you’re still okay with this.”

“With what?” Tommy asks, playing dumb. The last thing he wants to do is _talk_ about the kissing.

“I know you said it’s okay if I play with you on stage,” Adam says carefully, “but this is starting to be a little more than just pulling your hair. Just… tell me you’re still okay with it. Or if you’re not, I’ll back off, I promise.”

“It’s fine, I like it,” Tommy replies quickly. He takes a breath. “I do like it. I think—It’s good that you’re pushing boundaries, and I’m okay with that. Just don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

“Not offstage. I’m straight, we can’t… we can’t be more than friends,” Tommy says, not meeting Adam’s eyes.

“No kissing offstage?” Adam asks. Tommy looks up and sees Adam raising his eyebrows at him.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t remember?”

Tommy’s blood runs ice cold. “Remember what?”

“You tried to kiss me the other night,” Adam replies softly. “You _did_ kiss me the other night.”

“Why? Why did I do that? I don’t remember that.”

“You were drunk,” Adam says. “Really fucking drunk. You kept asking me to kiss you.” Adam watches him carefully and keeps his voice low, like Tommy might run away. It’s not out of the realm of possibility.

“What did you do?”

“I put you to bed, told you to sleep it off.”

Tommy looks away again, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have… I’m so sorry.”

Adam steps forward and pulls Tommy into a tight hug. Tommy slowly brings his arms up around Adam’s waist and squeezes him back.

“It’s not the first time it’s happened,” Adam whispers against Tommy’s hair.

Tommy stiffens and says, “I’m sorry.”

Adam just squeezes him harder, until Tommy’s forced to relax into his arms. “I’m here if you ever need to talk,” he murmurs. He presses his lips to Tommy’s forehead in an almost-kiss. “And I won’t kiss you anymore offstage, even if you’re asking for it, okay?”

Tommy nods against Adam’s chest and says, “I won’t ask anymore.”

***

At his mother’s request, Tommy flies home to visit his father in the hospital. It’s scary as fuck, seeing in person the stark reality of how sick his dad is, and Tommy almost wishes he’d stayed on tour. He sits in a hard plastic chair outside his dad’s room to wait while his sister goes inside to have a moment with him.

“How are you, honey?” his mom asks, sinking into the chair beside him. “How’s your band going?”

“It’s not _my_ band—”

“Don’t be contrary. How’s your tour going?”

“It’s fine. It’s great, a lot of fun,” Tommy replies with a shrug.

“I know your father would love to hear about it,” she suggests.

“Okay.”

“He just wants to know that you’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you? Playing music and traveling the country. It all seems so glamorous.”

“It is,” Tommy says. “It’s a lot of fun.”

“You seem better than—”

“Better than what?” Tommy snaps. “Better than before I got the job? Of course I fucking am, Mom, that job was killing me. At least being on tour got me the fuck out of here.”

“I was just saying that you seem happier now,” she says carefully.

“Yeah, now that I’m Adam Lambert’s boy toy,” Tommy mumbles.

She gives him a sharp look. “Please don’t be like this, Tommy. We’re all going through a lot right now—”

“That’s what you meant, isn’t it? Well, I am happier now. I’d take Adam kissing me in front of thousands of people over calling numbers on a list any fucking day, so just let it go.”

Lisa comes out of the room, wiping her eyes. “He’s resting,” she tells them.

“I gotta get out of here.” He grabs his jacket and heads for the door, and when he wakes up the next morning with a killer hangover and an empty bottle of Jack on the nightstand, he can’t remember how it got there.

***

He spends some time at the hospital the next day, and he tells his father about playing in front of huge crowds in unbelievable venues. When he’s not sitting with his dad, he’s out in the hallway, in the uncomfortable plastic chair, with the heavy weight of worry filling his gut. He whispers to Lisa that it feels like they’re waiting for their father to die.

“He’ll be okay,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It’s good that you came.”

“I had to,” Tommy replies. “I couldn’t just… I mean, what if I didn’t get back in time?”

“I know. No regrets, okay?” She pulls him into a hug.

“No regrets.”

Adam calls him later that day, relaying the well-wishes of the troupe and the road crew, and then he asks how Tommy’s feeling.

Tommy’s leaning against a wall in one of the hospital corridors. A person with a white sheet stretched over their head gets wheeled by him on the way to an elevator.

“I feel sick,” Tommy says honestly. He clutches his stomach and turns to rest his forehead against the cool, smooth wall. “I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

***

Tommy drinks himself to sleep again that night, but he manages to avoid the hangover this time. He wakes up with his sister’s words banging around in his head, though. _No regrets. No regrets_. It’s something Adam likes to say, too, especially when he meets up with Tommy and the others for a meal after a bunch of stressful interviews.

He misses Adam like crazy, even though it’s only been a couple of days. He’s used to spending every waking moment near Adam, and while he’s grateful for the alone time this trip home has afforded him, it’s already starting to feel too lonely, and that’s more telling than anything.

Tommy makes up his mind and types out a phone number he’d tucked into his wallet. He stares at the number for several minutes before pressing the button to call. He feels dumb, needing to psych himself up for this, but the nagging anxiety is eating away at his mind. He chews on the ragged edge of his thumbnail and listens to the endless ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Brad?” Tommy asks nervously. “It’s Tommy, uh, Tommy Ratliff? I play—”

“I know who you are, Tommy Ratliff.” Brad’s smirk is obvious in his voice. Or maybe that’s just how he sounds on the phone. Tommy takes a deep breath.

“I got your number off Adam’s phone,” he explains uselessly.

“That’s great. Why are you calling me?”

“I needed to ask you… Um, I mean, I wanted to talk to somebody, and… I just…”

“Get to the point already,” Brad snaps.

Tommy scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Never mind, okay? It doesn’t matter. Sorry I called you, I’ll just—”

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry, alright? I’m just… busy right now. Tell me why you’re calling.”

“Can we meet up?” Tommy blurts out. He holds his breath waiting for Brad’s answer.

Brad sighs. “I’m in the middle of about twelve different projects,” he says quietly. “And anyway, aren’t you like, across the fucking country or something?”

“I’m in LA until tomorrow,” Tommy replies.

Brad sighs again. “I’m free for lunch?” he offers after a moment.

“Yeah? That’d be awesome.”

Tommy stumbles through the rest of the conversation while Brad throws out the name and address of some restaurant in WeHo that Tommy’s never heard of. He does manage to jot everything down before Brad hangs up on him, though, and he counts that as a success.

Two hours later, Tommy’s standing at the bar in a trendy restaurant, holding his bottle of Corona in a death grip and trying to seem nonchalant. Someone taps him on the shoulder and he whirls around; it’s only Brad, he’s relieved to see.

“Drinking already? Baby, it’s not even happy hour.”

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just shrugs and takes another swig of the beer, giving Brad a defiant look out of the corner of his eye. Brad takes his arm and leads him over to a table.

“So! What is it you wanted so desperately to talk to me about?”

“Can I finish my beer first?” Tommy gripes.

Brad rolls his eyes expressively and waves his hand to catch a waiter’s attention. “Am I gonna need to be drunk for this conversation?” he asks pleasantly.

“I sure as fuck do,” Tommy says under his breath. He doesn’t say anything else until the waiter asks him what he wants to eat, and as soon as the waiter’s gone, Tommy lapses back into sullen silence.

“Considering _you_ were the one begging to meet with _me_ , the fact that you won’t talk right now is not inspiring much confidence,” Brad says. He flicks his napkin open and rubs at a spot on his side of the table. “Are you ever going to tell me why you needed to talk to me or do I have to guess?”

“I just wanted… to know…” Tommy begins haltingly. “I mean, you’re like—You—Sorry, I just don’t wanna, like, offend you.”

“Jesus, Tommy, just spit it out!” Brad’s smiling, but Tommy can hear the sharp edge of impatience in his voice. He drains the last of his beer and steels himself.

“You like getting fucked, right?”

Brad’s eyebrows go up. “ _Oh_ ,” he says.

Tommy’s face flames red. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, I do like taking it up the ass,” Brad says over Tommy’s clumsy apology. “Are you gonna ask me if it hurts, next? ‘Cause quite frankly, Tommy, you can find that out on any number of websites. Or, like, people on tour with you. Or _Adam_ , for fuck’s sake.”

“I can’t ask him,” Tommy mumbles.

“You should talk to Adam,” Brad continues. “He’s like, some kind of gay sex guru for virgins. I don’t even get it. Seriously, if you want anyone to show you the wonders of gay sex, it’s him—”

“I’m not gay,” Tommy snaps.

Brad gives him a sharp, unreadable look. “Sure, honey. Tell yourself that and ask me what it feels like to be fucked in the same breath.”

“I’m not saying anything against you—”

“No.”

“I’m just—I’m _not_ , okay? I’m not.”

Brad takes a moment to study him, then he straightens his shoulders and his expression softens minutely. “Okay, Tommy,” he says calmly. “What else did you want to ask me?”

Tommy takes a deep breath. “Are you… always like that, or do you switch off?”

“I top occasionally…” Brad answers with a shrug. “It depends on who I’m with.” His eyes rake Tommy’s body and finally settle on his face again. “You don’t have to commit to being a top or a bottom. If you don’t like it one way, you can try—”

“But some people do, right?” Tommy asks quickly.

“Commit to one or the other?”

“Yeah.”

Brad shrugs again. “I’ve never known anyone—personally—who’s exclusively a top or a bottom, but I guess some people do…”

“But A—” Tommy cuts himself off abruptly, but it’s too late; Brad seizes the opportunity to glare at him and lean across the table.

“Stop it, Tommy,” he says in a low, angry voice. “If you want to ask me about Adam, fucking _ask_ me. I’m tired of this stupid game.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Tommy says.

“It _does_ matter, because you want him to fuck you.”

“No, I don’t! I’m not gay.”

“You’re asking me what it’s like to be fucked by Adam Lambert. Now say that again?”

“I’m. Not. Gay,” Tommy growls.

“You still fucking believe that? Honestly?” Brad snaps.

“I’m _not_. I don’t know why I fucking asked you anything.”

“You know, I don’t either!”

“Fine, I’ll just go, then.” Tommy scrunches up his napkin and throws it on the table, making a move to stand up, but Brad reaches out and grabs his arm.

“Tommy.”

“What?”

Brad grits his teeth and forces a smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve had an awful day and I’m taking it out on you. You’re totally straight, okay, I believe you. I don’t want to fight, it’s like, against my religion.”

Tommy sinks slowly back into his chair. “Will you tell me about him?” he asks cautiously.

“What do you want to know?” Brad waits through a few seconds of Tommy’s helpless floundering before taking pity on him. “He’s a top, but it’s not like he’s never bottomed before. He probably would, for you, if you wanted it. He has a soft spot for you. And you already know what he’s like to be around, you don’t need me to tell you he’s a fucking diva sometimes.”

“Would he…”

Brad rolls his eyes. “Would he what? Take his time with you? Would he wait for you to come to your senses?”

“I mean, I’m not gay, but—”

“At least there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence now,” Brad mutters.

“I can’t just say, ‘fuck it all, do me up the ass right here, right now,’ alright?” Tommy snaps. “I’m not gay. I’m not. I just want to know—”

“You wanna know what you’re missing out on by hiding in the closet, is that it?”

“Yes! No. I mean—”

“He’s not some fucking amazing, magical person, alright?” Brad explodes. He instantly softens. “I mean, he _is_ amazing, he’s a great boyfriend, but he has flaws, we all do. He’s not perfect. And he can’t wait for you forever. He’s a man, he has needs, and if you can’t handle a real relationship, then you need to stay the hell away from him. You could break his heart so easily.” Brad glares at Tommy again, and throughout the whole conversation, Tommy never really considered Brad _intimidating_ , but he revises that opinion in a flash. Brad is totally intimidating, and Tommy can see the threat in his eyes now.

“Alright, fine, okay,” he mumbles quickly, breaking eye contact. Eventually Brad sighs and starts digging through his bag; Tommy fiddles with his phone just so he’s not sitting there like an idiot.

“I have to go,” Brad says softly. Tommy hears him hesitate; Brad waits until Tommy meets his eyes again before speaking. “Listen, Tommy, I think you’re great, okay? You’re a good friend, and you’re a good person for Adam to have around him on tour, but really think about it, okay? Get your head out of your ass, and do _not_ start something with him if you can’t follow through.”

***

The next night, Tommy’s back with the troupe, back with Adam, and he can admit to himself that he’s maybe taking the celebration a bit too far. Tommy falls over himself hugging and kissing everyone, already drunk half out of his mind, and Adam’s there to catch him. Adam’s always there to catch him.

Tommy clings to Adam’s wide, strong shoulders as Adam hauls him to his feet, and then Adam just keeps him there. Tommy makes no effort to leave Adam’s arms, either, and he’s too drunk to care about how it looks, him tucking himself into Adam’s side like he belongs there.

He _does_ belong there.

Every cell in Tommy’s body is screaming out for Adam, wanting to be closer. He snuggles in against Adam’s chest, twines his arms around Adam’s neck, and breathes damp, open-mouthed kisses all over Adam’s throat.

“Baby, you’re fuckin’ wasted,” Adam slurs. But instead of pushing Tommy away, he wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist and keeps him right where he is, and Tommy giggles his relief into Adam’s shirt.

“I know. I _know_ ,” he moans. “It’s awesome. Kiss me.”

“No way.”

“C’mon,” Tommy pleads. “You wanna kiss me.”

“I always wanna kiss you.”

“So do it. Come on. I want you to.”

“You’re such a make-out slut,” Adam groans. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“Not teasin’,” Tommy insists. Adam swings him around and presses him against the wall—maybe only to keep them upright, but the breath leaves Tommy’s lungs anyway and he slides one hand up into Adam’s hair. “Kiss me.”

Adam leans in, so Tommy tilts his head and parts his lips, and he can taste Adam’s breath, and… It doesn’t happen. Tommy opens his eyes to see Adam still there, leaning in close, breathing the same air as Tommy, but he’s not _kissing_ Tommy.

“Please,” Tommy whispers.

“I need to get you to bed.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tommy hisses, letting his head fall back against the wall.

Adam gets them out of the bar and into the elevator, and Tommy sags against the mirrored paneling where Adam leaves him. They stand at opposite ends of the elevator, watching each other silently.

The elevator reaches Adam’s floor and Tommy follows him out, walking close enough that he can reach up and grab onto Adam’s shoulders when he stumbles.

Adam’s unnervingly quiet as they go into the suite, as he guides Tommy to the bed and sits him down. He takes off his leather jacket and throws it over the back of a chair, kicks off his shoes, and yanks off his gloves, and Tommy watches every move hungrily. He’s not sure if he should take off his hoodie now—he kind of thinks they should make out for a while with their clothes _on_ , first.

But then Adam stands in front of him and pushes on Tommy’s shoulders; Tommy falls backwards on the bed, his head somewhere close to the pillows but not quite there and his feet still hanging off the end. Adam kneels down and takes off Tommy’s boots, then swings Tommy’s legs onto the bed.

Tommy’s mostly on board with this plan; he squirms back until he gets a pillow under his head, then reaches for Adam. Adam crawls onto the bed beside him and doesn’t even touch him, though.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this with you,” Adam admits quietly. He grazes Tommy’s cheek with the very tips of his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy replies, very sincerely. “Didn’t wanna hurt you. I just wanna be with you.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“You don’t mean it like I want you to mean it,” Adam amends sadly.

“I do mean it,” Tommy moans. His situation is finally sinking in and he sighs unhappily. As he curls up and snuggles into Adam’s chest, he remembers of Brad’s final words. “I wanna follow through. I wanna be more than a good friend, I wanna be good for you. I wanna be with you so fucking bad.”

“But you don’t get it, TJ,” Adam whispers. He strokes his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “I’m already in love with you.”

“Yeah, but…” Tommy trails off, rubbing his nose against Adam’s shirt. “I love you, too.”

Adam sighs heavily; Tommy can feel the rise and fall of his chest.

“Can we sleep now?” Tommy asks.

Adam’s quiet for a while before he finally says, “Yeah, baby, go to sleep.”

***

Tommy blinks awake in the dim hotel room. He feels like shit; his head is pounding and his mouth is dry. He licks his lips ineffectually.

The bathroom door opens and Adam comes out, surrounded by wisps of steam. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt and still has a towel wrapped around his waist, and another one hanging around his neck to catch the drips from his hair. He sees that Tommy’s awake and comes over to stand by the bed.

“You should shower. We’ve got a few hours before we have to go.”

“I’m in your room,” Tommy mumbles. “I’m in your bed.”

Adam raises an eyebrow. “I know. We need to talk. I’ll lay out a clean shirt for you, okay?”

Tommy nods dumbly and lets Adam haul him out of bed. He realizes he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and that he smells like a bar. He makes his way slowly to the bathroom, breathing in the steam, and closes and locks the door behind him.

In the shower, Tommy stands still under the spray and braces his hands against the slippery tile. The embarrassment he didn’t feel last night is catching up to him now, and he wonders if there’s any chance Adam will let him escape without having that talk he mentioned. Tommy’s stomach is in knots; he knows he’s crossed too many lines, and now he’s just waiting for Adam to say Tommy’s out of the band. Tommy uses Adam’s shampoo (which he can’t help but think of as Adam-scented) and concentrates on clearing his mind. It’s hard, when the whole shower smells like Adam.

Tommy comes out of the bathroom shirtless with his arms crossed self-consciously across his chest, but wearing yesterday’s pants. As promised, Adam has another plain, black t-shirt set out for him. Adam watches him put it on. Tommy tries not to hide from him; his bare chest isn’t anything Adam hasn’t seen before. The shirt hangs loose on Tommy, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal his collarbones. He plucks at the hem nervously.

“C’mere, Tommy,” Adam says, beckoning him over to the vanity. He picks through his makeup kit and brings out a wet wipe. “You’re a mess.”

Tommy holds still while Adam swipes at his cheeks, erasing the leftover eyeshadow and liner that smeared during the night. He stays silent, highly conscious of the weird tension between them.

“We need to talk about last night,” Adam finally says, once Tommy’s face is freshly scrubbed clean.

“I’m sorry,” Tommy replies immediately. “I didn’t mean to be all over you like that.”

“It’s not the first time that’s happened,” Adam continues. “And I don’t think I can keep doing this with you.”

“What do you mean?”

Adam takes a deep breath. Tommy can tell he’s uncomfortable, and that just makes Tommy feel even worse for putting Adam in this position. “You keep flirting with me,” Adam says, “telling me you want me, and… Honestly, it’s getting harder and harder for me to resist, especially when I’m as drunk as you are. One day I’m gonna do something I shouldn’t, and you’re gonna wake up the morning after and hate me for it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t know what to do, Tommy. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, you said you wanted to follow through and be more than friends. You’ve never said that before. You’ve begged me to fuck you, but you’ve never said it like that before.”

Tommy’s breath catches. “I wasn’t lying,” he says, avoiding Adam’s gaze.

“I thought you liked girls,” Adam says gently.

Tommy bites his lip. “That’s never worked out too well for me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want a girl, I want—”

Adam hesitates. “Tommy?”

“I love you, and I… I want _you_.”

“Are you sober right now?” Adam asks carefully.

“I’m hungover,” Tommy answers, rolling his eyes, “but yeah.”

Adam takes a step towards him. “Tell me again. Make me believe it.”

Tommy closes his eyes tight. “I want to be with you.”

“Can I kiss you?” Adam whispers.

Tommy doesn’t trust himself to speak; he nods. Adam’s hand slides over his cheek and into his hair. He doesn’t pull, but he gently tilts Tommy’s head and urges him in for a kiss. His lips meet Tommy’s and part instantly, his tongue tracing Tommy’s mouth until Tommy opens for him as well. Adam kisses him, and Tommy lets himself be kissed. The nervous fluttering in his stomach prevents him from doing much more than hang on for the ride, but he follows Adam’s movements and accepts everything Adam does to him.

When they finally part, Adam holds Tommy’s face in his hands and asks Tommy to look at him. Tommy obeys. He opens his eyes to meet Adam’s and he gasps at the naked desire he sees there.

“Will you be with me, Tommy? Will you be my boyfriend? Do you want that?”

“I love you,” Tommy whispers.

“Answer the question.”

“Yes.”

Adam pulls him in for another kiss. “I love you,” he says, his voice shaking with want. “I’ve wanted you for so long…”

Tommy yanks back. “I’ve never—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Adam sooths. He strokes Tommy’s arm. “We don’t have to do anything. We’ll go slow, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“Slow?” Tommy asks apprehensively. His body relaxes into Adam’s touch without his permission.

“We’ll go as slow as you need, baby. I won’t push,” Adam promises. He draws Tommy into a hug, tucking Tommy’s head under his chin. “I love you.”

***

They part and act normal for the rest of the day while they hang out with the troupe and make their way to the next venue, but Tommy follows Adam to his hotel room that night. Adam greets him at the door with a chaste kiss on the lips.

Tommy turns away and hides behind his hair. As soon as he does it, he knows it’s the wrong reaction. He shakes his hair away and gives Adam a smile.

“Sorry. Not used to this,” he says quickly. He reaches for Adam’s hand and laces their fingers together. “Can we just hang out for a while?”

Adam says, “Sure,” with a cheerful smile, but Tommy doesn’t miss the slight wrinkling of his eyebrows. He leads Tommy into the room and they both sit on the bed, up against the headboard. “You want to watch a movie?” Adam asks. “I’m sure there’s something good on Pay-Per-View.”

“We can just watch normal TV, if you want,” Tommy offers. There’s an obvious gap between their bodies; the only place they’re touching is their hands. Tommy squeezes Adam’s fingers but can’t quite bring himself to move closer.

Adam turns on the TV and resettles against the headboard without letting go of Tommy’s hand. After a few minutes, he unlaces their fingers and stretches his arm over Tommy’s shoulders to hold him, but Tommy doesn’t scoot closer to close the gap. Adam’s hand slides down over Tommy’s chest like it does when they’re in this position on stage, and Tommy’s stomach flutters nervously. He reaches up and lays his hand over Adam’s, stilling it. He wonders if this is how girls felt when he tried to subtly feel them up.

Eventually, Adam looks over at him. He doesn’t say anything, but Tommy can read the question in his eyes. Tommy doesn’t respond negatively and hopes that’s enough, and then Adam leans over and kisses him softly. Tommy forces himself to relax and let go of the tension that shoots up his spine, and after a moment of just sitting there passively being kissed, Tommy pushes forward and meets Adam’s tongue with his own.

Adam seems to understand that Tommy’s in the middle of freaking out, so he moves slowly, dragging out that one kiss for a while before inching closer and pulling Tommy against him. When he brings his other hand up to cup Tommy’s cheek, though, something triggers the too-much alarm in Tommy’s brain and he jerks back, away, far enough that they’re not touching at all anymore.

Adam looks surprised, concerned, but not angry. “You okay?” he asks carefully. He lifts his hand and Tommy tenses up.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

Adam shrugs. His faces smoothes into the mask he wears for fans, the one even Tommy can’t see through. “We don’t have to kiss if you don’t want.”

Something untwists in Tommy’s gut at Adam’s words and he breathes a sigh of relief. He instantly feels bad about it, though, because he knows how much Adam loves kissing, and he loves it too—he really _wants_ to be okay with kissing Adam.

“It’s just some kind of mental block,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy hunches over and wraps his arms around Adam’s waist. Adam’s hands hover above his shoulders like he’s scared to touch Tommy, which is both so wrong and exactly what Tommy wants right now. Tommy tucks his head under Adam’s chin and nuzzles at the dip between his collarbones.

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do,” he says miserably. “I don't know what you want me to do.”

“Oh, honey,” Adam replies, his voice softening instantly. He puts his hands around Tommy’s shoulders gently pulls him in to a tight embrace. “I'm not asking you to do anything. You don’t have to know, right now. We’ll go as slow as you need.”

Tommy presses a quick kiss to Adam’s bare skin and whispers, “I love you.”

***

It doesn’t get any better during the next week. Every time Adam gets close enough to Tommy to touch him, Tommy shrugs out from under Adam’s hands, pulling away with an apologetic smile. Tommy’s heart breaks a little every time he sees Adam pull that cheerful mask back on, and he feels like the only words out of his mouth lately are apologies.

It wears them down, the subtle avoidance, and Tommy starts to notice the concerned glances Monte shoots at them both. In addition to yanking his hands back whenever he reaches for Tommy, Adam starts snapping at everyone during rehearsals. When they’re on the bus, Tommy takes the brunt of Adam’s sharpening temper, because he knows it’s his fault, but there’s nothing he can do when Adam decides to bitch at the dancers or the crew instead.

He finds Adam alone in his dressing room after that night’s show, just sitting in front of the mirror making no effort to undress or wipe off his stage makeup. Tommy closes the door behind him and turns the lock.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, announcing his presence.

Adam whirls around and rises smoothly out of his chair. “For what?” he snaps.

“I know this is all my fault,” Tommy answers, “but I don’t know how to get past it. I’m trying, though. I want things to be better.”

“You’re trying,” Adam repeats. “That’s what I don’t get. What the hell are you trying, Tommy? It doesn’t seem like you’re trying anything. It seems like you’re just avoiding the issue.”

“I’m not _avoiding_ —”

“You are. You’re avoiding me!”

“I’m sor—”

“Stop saying that!” Adam shouts. “I don’t think you are sorry! What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks desperately. “I kissed you all the fucking time before, and we finally get together and now suddenly you’re not okay with it? What the fuck, Tommy?”

“I’m sorry!”

“What is going on? I don’t fucking get it! You’re the most open-minded person I know. Or at least, I _thought_ you were. Why are you like this all of the sudden?”

Tommy dithers for a moment. “You’re gonna hate me,” he finally answers.

Adam sighs. “I can’t _hate_ you, baby.”

“You won’t like it,” Tommy insists.

“I don’t like you being scared of me or whatever the fuck this is, either!”

Tommy twists both hands in the pockets of his hoodie and avoids Adam’s gaze. “It was easier before,” he admits.

“What does that even mean?”

“It wasn’t… _real_.”

The frantic energy leaves Adam in a rush; he shocks Tommy with his sudden stillness. “What wasn’t real?” he asks in a deceptively calm voice.

“The… kissing, the touching, it wasn’t… It didn’t mean anything, before,” Tommy murmurs.

“And now—”

“Now it _means_ something, and I can’t—I’m just scared, alright? I’m sorry, but I am.”

“You’re scared of being gay. For _real_.”

“Adam, don’t.”

“No, I get it,” Adam says quickly. “It’s only okay to kiss and touch when you can push it all away and hide behind a fucking label that says none of it meant anything.”

“Adam!”

Adam grabs a handful of Tommy’s shirt and hauls him close. “It always meant something to me,” he hisses angrily. “Don’t you fucking do this.”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m trying, okay? I’m sorry.”

Adam releases him and takes several steps back. “I think I need to be away from you for a little while,” he says stiffly.

“Adam, please—” Tommy rushes forward, closing the distance between them again, and tugs at the sides of Adam’s jacket.

Adam grabs Tommy’s face and drags him in for a fierce, brutal kiss. His teeth nip and pull Tommy’s lower lip, and his tongue pushes into Tommy’s mouth forcefully. When they part, Tommy’s knees buckle; Adam holds him steady and squeezes Tommy’s biceps until Tommy opens his eyes.

“Nothing’s changed,” Adam growls. “I loved you then, and I love you now, and you’re still hiding behind that stupid label. Nothing has changed.”

Tommy nods weakly and lets Adam’s arms hold him up. He has no confidence in his legs’ ability to support him at all. He feels safe with Adam.

“This is just us, Tommy, just like before,” Adam continues. His voice slides into a sad sort of pleading. “Don’t be scared of me.”

Tommy shakes his head. “I’m not.” It’s the truth.

Adam leans in again, and this time Tommy’s ready for him. He tilts his head and closes his eyes and meets Adam halfway, matching his intensity. He forces his mind to clear, focusing on nothing but Adam’s lips against his own, and how good it feels, and how much he likes it. That’s all that matters.

***

  
**AUGUST**   


It takes Tommy a few days to sort everything out in his head—they’re busy with the tour, of course, but they’re close enough to home that family and friends come out to see them. Everyone works hard to make those few shows extra-spectacular, and the parties afterward are crazy enough that Tommy doesn’t remember more than vague images of people and drinks and flashing lights.

Finally, they have a free night. Tommy’s already made up his mind to apologize to Adam, but the hard part is getting up the nerve to actually do it. Adam was right, is the thing. He loved Adam before he admitted it to himself, and he loves Adam now, and in that respect, nothing has changed. The only thing Tommy can think of that’s different, now that he and Adam are together, is that they can kiss and have it mean everything they’d kept hidden from each other before.

Tommy digs through the cabinets on the bus and finds a bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses, then takes the _True Blood_ DVD set from the lounge and heads back to Adam’s room. Adam’s flipping through a magazine with the TV on mute when Tommy walks in; he looks up in surprise.

“You alright?” he asks. Tommy feels a rush of guilt; he and Adam haven’t really spent time together at all this week.

“I wanna make it up to you,” he says. “So I thought, movie night? Just us?” He holds up the wine and the DVD box hopefully.

Adam breaks into a smile and shoves his magazine off his lap. He gets up to his knees and meets Tommy in the middle of the bed, taking the glasses out of Tommy’s hand and setting them aside carefully.

Tommy hesitates for only a fraction of a second before leaning in and pulling Adam down for a kiss. Adam keeps his hands off Tommy’s body at first, until Tommy makes his intentions clear and wraps his arms around Adam’s neck to hold him close. Adam slides one hand under Tommy’s t-shirt and rests it on his lower back, warm and solid, and Tommy sighs into Adam’s mouth. He’s missed this.

He does notice that Adam keeps his hands still, which is comforting. Tommy takes the lead and eventually he’s the one to pull away. He doesn’t let go of Adam, and Adam takes the hint and doesn’t let go of him either. Tommy smiles at him.

“You were right,” he whispers. “And I like being with you. I don’t want that to stop.”

“I don’t either. I’m just… waiting for you,” Adam says. “Whatever you want to do, okay?”

Tommy laughs. “Well, tonight I want to sit in here with you and watch some sexy vampires, drink some wine, and make out like teenagers. Can we do that?”

“We can most certainly do that.”

***

Of course, it’s too good to last. Two days later, he’s sleeping in Adam’s bed, with Adam’s arm slung over his waist, when his phone vibrates its way off the nightstand. He ignores it and it eventually falls silent. Adam snuggles closer and rubs his nose against Tommy’s shoulder, wrinkling his t-shirt. The phone starts vibrating again.

Tommy rolls away from Adam and reaches over the side of the bed to snag it.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes.

He hears Adam shift around behind him. “What’re you doin’?” he asks sleepily.

“It’s my mom,” Tommy says. The phone stops vibrating and starts up again a second later. “Oh, shit. Shit. Adam.”

“You gonna answer it?” Adam asks. He sounds more awake, now, and very calm.

Tommy shakes his head slowly. He can’t answer it.

“Give me the phone, Tommy,” Adam says. Tommy lets it fall from his hands and Adam leans around him to pick it up. He clicks the button and holds it up to his ear. “This is Adam, hold on a second.”

Tommy slides off the bed and sits on the floor, shaking his head again.

“Talk to her, Tommy,” Adam whispers. He holds the phone out. Tommy can hear his mom saying his name. He reaches for it.

“Mom?”

She’s crying, and that’s all the answer Tommy needs. He pinches his lips together and closes his eyes tight and pretends tears aren’t sliding down his cheeks. He’s distantly aware of her telling him that he doesn’t need to come home, that he should stay on tour and let her take care of funeral arrangements, and eventually the line goes dead and Adam’s prying the phone from Tommy’s fist.

Adam gets on the floor with him and pulls him into a hug, whispering, “I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” into Tommy’s hair. Tommy isn’t even embarrassed about crying and sniffling into Adam’s shirt, or about clinging to Adam like a drowning man with a life jacket.

Tommy’s not sure how long they sit on the floor together, but when he wakes up, he’s back in Adam’s bed, alone, and he can hear people talking quietly out in the lounge. He’s not ready to see them yet, so he doesn’t get up. He pulls the blanket up over his head and wipes his eyes on Adam’s soft pillowcase and falls back to sleep.

***

Tommy stays in Adam’s bed all day on Thursday and as long as he can on Friday; Adam comes in every now and then to sit with him, and he’s said several times that Tommy doesn’t have to play tonight if he’s not feeling up to it. Tommy shakes his head each time and tells Adam over and over that he’ll play the show. He skips the sound check, though.

Adam comes in afterward and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush Tommy’s hair out of his eyes. “You still want to play?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tommy says firmly. His mom told him to keep playing. His dad would’ve wanted him to keep playing.

“Your phone’s been ringing off the hook,” Adam says. He takes it out of his pocket and hands it over. “A lot of people left you messages.”

“I don’t want to hear them.”

Adam sighs. “I know. But you should talk to you mom, at least.”

Tommy stares blankly at the phone. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Tell her about the tour. Tell her you’re gonna play tonight. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”

Adam gives him a hug and a kiss on the forehead and leaves the room again. He probably has to start getting ready for the show. Tommy wonders how much time he has before he needs to get dressed as well and briefly considers just staying in bed all night. He calls his mom.

She tells him about the flowers people are sending, and about the fans that have sent their condolences, and Tommy tells her about the messages on his phone. It’s not hard to guess what they all say; he doesn’t tell her that he can’t bring himself to listen to them yet.

“You have a show tonight, right? Tommy?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll make him proud, won’t you?”

Tommy has to get out of bed, now. He rolls to his feet and shuffles across the room to listen through the door. “Of course, yeah,” he says. He can hear Adam’s voice.

“You just keep doing what you love, Tommy. That’s all we ever wanted for you. Just for you to be happy,” she says tearfully.

Tommy leans against the door and feels the ghost of Adam’s kiss on his forehead. “Yeah.”

***


	3. Chapter 3

Adam doesn’t push Tommy to kiss very often after that, but the touching goes back to normal—normal, like before Tommy was gay, normal like they’re just friends again. It feels like a setback, but Tommy counts it as a good thing: Adam seems to understand that Tommy needs some space, and keeping everything low-key provides just enough comfort without being too much for Tommy to handle. Tommy even initiates some of the snuggling—something he did before anyway—and it makes Adam smile. Tommy loves that smile.

He wants to see that smile more often, so he starts following Adam into his dressing room after shows, when they’re both sweaty and exhilarated and riding the high of performing. Tommy hugs Adam tightly, and Adam kisses the top of Tommy’s head. Just like they did before.

But then, one night, Tommy takes Adam’s face in his hands and kisses him, his tongue probing at the seam of Adam’s closed lips until they open and Adam starts kissing back. He’s chasing what they had together for those few days when things were good; he’s been craving the closeness he tasted before.

When they pull apart, Adam’s smiling. Tommy feels himself smile as well, like a reflection of Adam.

“You alright?” Adam asks, keeping his voice light.

“Yeah. I’m better now.” He’s pretty proud of himself for making the first move, and he doesn’t shy away when Adam leans in for another, fiercer kiss.

It becomes a habit after shows. Tommy follows Adam into his dressing room—just like always—and they hug or snuggle or simply talk about the show—just like always—and then they kiss. Not like always, but _better_. Tommy labels this “better” very firmly in his mind and doesn’t let any doubts or fears creep in and spoil it.

Then Adam slides his lips along Tommy’s jaw and whispers, “I want you so fucking bad, Tommy, I wanna suck you off, baby, can I? Will you let me suck you off, baby? Please? I want to so bad.”

Tommy’s cock starts paying attention to Adam’s words and he squeezes his eyes closed and nods before he can talk himself out of it. Adam walks him backwards until his legs hit the chair and he falls into it. Tommy looks up at Adam, breathing harshly, and keeps himself very still. He’s not sure what Adam wants him to do.

Adam sinks gracefully to his knees, not breaking eye contact, and reaches for Tommy’s zipper. Tommy isn’t hard yet, but his dick is definitely interested; he grabs the armrests of the chair and holds on tight so his hands won’t get any ideas about pushing Adam away, or maybe yanking him closer by his hair.

Once Adam touches Tommy’s cock, pulling him free of his briefs and his pants, Tommy closes his eyes again. It’s too surreal to see Adam on his knees between his legs, too strange to see a man leaning down to take Tommy’s cock into his mouth. At the first touch of Adam’s tongue, Tommy swallows hard and grits his teeth trying to stay quiet. It’s been so long since he’s been laid at all, and Adam is so fucking good with his mouth—

“Oh, god, please,” Tommy gasps.

Adam hums around him, spreading his palms over Tommy’s thighs. His fingers stretch out and he covers the tops of Tommy’s legs completely; Tommy always feels so small when he’s with Adam, but especially now, like this, when Adam has to hunch over even on his knees to line his mouth up with Tommy’s dick.

Tommy’s stomach twists uncomfortably, a combination of his usual Adam-related anxiety and the very real effect Adam’s mouth is having on him. One of Tommy’s hands flies to the back of Adam’s head and he grabs a handful of hair tightly, still not sure if he intends to push Adam down or pull him back.

Adam squeezes Tommy’s thigh and slides one hand up to press firmly against his stomach. It settles the butterflies. Tommy exhales sharply and thrusts up into Adam’s mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants under his breath. “Adam, Jesus, please—”

Adam hums again, and when Tommy opens his eyes to look down at him, he sees Adam looking right back up, watching him. Tommy presses his lips together in an effort to stay quiet. Adam’s eyebrows twitch in what looks like amusement, like he’d be smirking if his mouth wasn’t busy.

 _Busy sucking my cock_ , Tommy thinks giddily. His fist tightens in Adam’s hair and he thrusts up again; Adam just rides it out, presses on Tommy’s stomach gently, and flattens his tongue against the underside of Tommy’s dick. He goes down far enough for his lips to reach the base, and Tommy’s cock pushes against the back of Adam’s throat.

Tommy closes his eyes rather than watch the concentration lines appear around Adam’s eyebrows. He can’t watch Adam do this, not without losing his mind. He’s always known that Adam likes sucking cock, but it was a mostly abstract thought, something Tommy knew without ever fully picturing the details of it; Tommy had never really considered that Adam sucking cock might involve _him_.

The nervous fluttering in his stomach returns. He wants so badly to come, he wants to come down Adam’s fucking throat, but he shouldn’t—he shouldn’t want it and he shouldn’t _do_ it, but oh, fuck, Tommy wants it.

“Oh, Adam, fuck, Adam,” Tommy gasps, throwing his head back. He comes, he comes down Adam’s throat, just like he so desperately wanted to do and just like he shouldn’t have done, but it’s too late now, and Adam sits back on his heels and wipes at the corners of his mouth with the tips of his fingers.

His lips are red and abused, and there’s a very obvious haze of lust in his eyes when he finally looks up at Tommy. He takes his hand away from Tommy’s stomach and carefully tucks Tommy’s dick back into his pants, zipping him up neatly.

“You just—” Tommy says. “Do you want—”

“No,” Adam answers quickly. He gives Tommy an easy smile. “No, baby, I got what I wanted.” He reaches up and strokes Tommy’s face. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Tommy.”

“Adam, I—”

“It’s alright,” Adam interrupts. “You should—The fans are waiting, you should go.”

“You’re the one they’re waiting for,” Tommy replies softly.

“I won’t be long,” Adam promises. “Go on, baby. I need to clean myself up.”

Tommy pushes himself out of the chair; Adam makes no move to back away from him, so when Tommy stands up, his crotch is right in Adam’s face and Tommy flushes with embarrassment; it doesn’t make sense—Adam just _sucked him off_ —but Tommy can’t help it. Adam lays a hand on Tommy’s thigh and gently pushes him in the direction of the door.

Tommy turns back when he’s halfway into the hall for one last look before he shuts the door and sees Adam grip the s eat of the chair and hunch over, one hand between his legs, squeezing his cock through his pants. Adam’s mouth is open wide and his eyes are tightly closed, and Tommy can’t breathe.

He hears Adam gasp, hears him gasp _Tommy’s name_ , and Tommy runs away, fighting the pull Adam has on him. It’s like gravity. He wants to be back in that dressing room, kissing Adam when he comes, but the idea is so foreign and fucking terrifying that Tommy can’t help but fight it.

Tommy feels unsettled all the way through signing autographs and posing for pictures and chatting with the rest of the troupe by the buses until Adam comes up behind him and wraps him up in a hug. Tommy forces away the instinctive response of tensing up and lays his hands over Adam’s, leaning back against him.

“I love you so much,” Adam whispers in his ear. “Thanks for tonight.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” Tommy whispers back.

“Yeah, but you let me.”

Adam kisses his cheek, quickly enough that Tommy’s not even scared of how it might look to the others. Tommy pulls out of Adam’s hold and turns around to face him. That unsettled feeling was guilt over leaving Adam alone in that dressing room, Tommy suddenly realizes. It disappears when he sees Adam’s pleased, proud smile, though. _That_ smile, the one Tommy can’t resist returning. After that, Tommy can’t _stop_ smiling.

***

A few days after that incident—which hasn’t happened again, at least not _yet_ —Tommy lets himself into Adam’s bedroom and catches him watching porn on his laptop. Adam frantically snaps the screen down and yanks out his earbuds, flushing bright red with embarrassment, but Tommy just laughs and shakes his head.

“I’m not surprised,” Tommy tells him honestly.

“Were you wondering how I managed to keep my hands off you?” Adam asks.

Tommy shrugs and knee-walks onto Adam’s bed, pointing to the laptop. “Can I see?”

“You sure?”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen gay porn before,” Tommy says, rolling his eyes. “I know how the whole gay sex thing works, y’know.”

Adam looks a little surprised. He takes Tommy by the arm and pulls him back against his chest. “Watch it with me?” he suggests casually.

“Sure, yeah.”

Tommy settles back against Adam’s bare chest and fits himself into the space between Adam’s legs, and Adam reaches around him to open his computer again. Tommy catches a glimpse of a young guy with his mouth around a dick, but then Adam starts the video over and wraps his arms around Tommy’s waist.

The set-up is just as cheesy as the straight porn Tommy’s watched in the past; a kid in a hotel room procrastinates on his homework by jerking off, and then a room service guy knocks on the door and interrupts him. Tommy rolls his eyes, especially at the dialogue, but his dick starts to get interested when the two kiss.

He glances over his shoulder and startles; Adam’s not watching the video, he’s watching _Tommy_.

“What?” Tommy asks nervously. “And don’t even try telling me I’m hotter than that.”

Adam nods towards the screen. “You like that?” he asks. The kid’s on his knees in front of the bigger dude and taking his cock into his mouth. Tommy shrugs and licks his lips. When he looks back over his shoulder, Adam’s still watching him.

“I just want to know what you like,” Adam murmurs. “Do you think this is hot, Tommy?”

“Sure, I guess,” Tommy replies. His dick is pushing at his zipper now, so he can’t really deny anything. Tommy shifts his hips and leans back against Adam. Adam’s definitely into it; his cock is poking Tommy’s ass. “You could be in porn,” he says. “You’ve got the cock for it.”

Adam laughs and slides his hands down to the waistband of Tommy’s jeans. “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

“I don’t think I could handle being in porn,” Tommy admits. He tries not to be too obvious about pushing his hips up to meet Adam’s hands.

“You’d be so hot on camera, though,” Adam whispers against his ear. He hesitates with his fingers on the zipper. “Tommy?”

“Yes.”

Adam pulls the sides of his jeans apart and lifts Tommy out of his briefs. The contrast between the coldness of the air and the warmth of Adam’s hand around him makes Tommy gasp.

“Keep watching,” Adam says. “I like this part.”

It doesn’t take long for the bigger guy to pull his cock out of the boy’s mouth and jerk off all over his face. Adam hums under his breath, his lips against Tommy’s neck, and squeezes his cock. On the screen, the kid’s face is shiny and wet with come. Tommy feels a flash of something hot, something almost like humiliation but not quite, thinking of himself in that position, with Adam’s come all over his face, spilling out of his mouth. Adam squeezes him again and grazes his teeth against Tommy’s throat.

“You like that?” Tommy asks, clearing his throat.

“Mmmm,” Adam murmurs.

Tommy can’t voice his next question: _Do you want to do that to me?_

“Keep watching,” Adam says. “Tell me if there’s something you like.”

His dick is still very interested in watching the video, so Tommy nods and grabs Adam’s thighs. Adam keeps his hand moving, slowly winding Tommy up into a shuddering mess, which is what he is when the guy grabs the kid and lays him out on the table. Tommy groans and reaches back for Adam’s shoulder, clinging on tight.

“Oh Jesus fuck, _Adam_ ,” he gasps, finally closing his eyes and letting his head fall back against Adam.

“Yeah, Tommy Joe, tell me,” Adam whispers.

“I don’t know,” Tommy groans. He grits his teeth. “ _Fuck_.”

Adam sucks Tommy’s earlobe into his mouth, his tongue sliding around Tommy’s earrings. “What did you like about that?”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Tommy insists. “He’s just… He’s so much bigger, I don’t know. God, I wanna come, Adam, please.”

“You like how big he is? How he can just pick you up and position you however I want you… You want me like that, Tommy?”

Adam’s other hand comes up around Tommy’s torso, lays flat over his sternum, and pulls Tommy back against Adam’s chest, and Adam’s legs come up on either side of Tommy’s hips as he raises his knees, trapping Tommy in his arms. Tommy digs his fingernails into Adam’s shoulder.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps. “Yes! God, fuck, Adam—Adam, please, I need—”

“I know what you need,” Adam replies. He twists his hand around, sliding his thumb up and over the head, and scrapes his teeth along the corner of Tommy’s jaw, and Tommy lets go and comes. By the time he’s finished and fucked out, sprawled in Adam’s arms like a ragdoll, the video’s over and Adam’s reaching around Tommy to close the computer.

But Adam’s cock is still pressing hard against Tommy’s lower back. He twists halfway around. “What about you?” he asks. “I can’t just leave you again, not after last time.”

Adam gently pushes Tommy out of his lap. “Would you watch me, Tommy?”

Tommy swallows. “Um… okay. You sure?”

“I want you to tell me what you like,” Adam says. “Just… watch.”

Tommy curls his legs under himself and settles on his knees at the foot of the bed, eyes trained on Adam’s face. He watches as Adam licks his lips, exhales, licks his lips again. Then Adam’s hand slips into his jeans—Tommy can see the vague outline of Adam stroking himself and he wants to see more. He cocks his head and leans forward slightly.

Adam undoes his pants and pushes them down his thighs, revealing himself without any shame or hesitation. Tommy swallows again, his eyes wide, as Adam takes his cock in hand and starts stroking. There’s no doubt that he’s hotter than both of the guys in the video. Tommy shifts forward a little more, leaning on his hands.

His eyes flick back up to Adam’s face. He’s shocked to find Adam watching him again. He holds Adam’s burning gaze and licks his lips. Adam’s eyes drop down to Tommy’s mouth. Tommy can practically see him fantasizing.

 _I want to be that for you_ , Tommy thinks, as if he can project his thoughts into Adam’s head.

Adam lets out a short, sharp noise and jerks his hips, and Tommy looks down at his dick in time to see him coming. He catches most of it in his hand, but it splatters the lower part of his bare stomach as well. Adam lets his hands and legs fall open once he’s finished, gazing intently at Tommy.

“Whoa,” Tommy breathes.

Adam opens his mouth like he’s going to reply, but he says nothing. Tommy crawls forward and slowly, slowly reaches out with one hand. He slides the tip of his finger through the come on Adam’s stomach. Adam watches the progress of his hand with what looks like apprehension, like Tommy’s a poisonous creature about to bite.

Tommy lifts his hand and sucks his finger into his mouth. Adam stares at him.

“You taste different than me,” Tommy finally whispers. Adam breaks into a relieved smile and grabs for a tissue to clean himself up. He wipes the come off his hand, then his stomach, and then his cock. Tommy’s eyes catch there and stay. “I was right, by the way. You could totally be in porn,” he adds.

“I think I’d rather limit this performance to a smaller audience,” he replies with a grin. He tucks himself back into his pants and opens his arms, beckoning Tommy back into his lap, and Tommy goes without second thought.

***

Tommy spends a lot of time in Adam’s room after that experience. Adam jerks off for him twice more, putting on little private shows, before Tommy’s comfortable enough to touch. He and Adam are kissing—making out like teenagers—and Adam’s made no secret of the fact that he’s hard as a rock against Tommy’s thigh. He reaches between their bodies and rubs his palm against Tommy’s dick through his pants and Tommy lets that continue for a while, until he can’t resist any longer. He pushes Adam back.

“What—”

“Can I touch you?” Tommy asks.

“Of course, yeah, anything,” Adam replies softly. He sits up on his knees, straddling Tommy’s hips, and waits calmly. He doesn’t move at all as Tommy slowly unbuttons and unzips his pants, and he only barely inhales when Tommy slips his hand inside and wraps it around Adam’s cock.

It’s a very strange sensation, touching another man’s dick. Adam’s is pretty different than his own; longer and thicker, and cut. There’s almost nothing about touching Adam that Tommy can confuse with touching himself. But Tommy knows what he likes, and he can try and do the same for Adam. He starts moving his hand.

“Yeah,” Adam breathes.

“Is that okay?”

“Just… do whatever you do to yourself,” Adam says.

Tommy makes Adam come that night with his hand around his cock and his lips against Adam’s throat. Adam returns the favor with a very enthusiastic blowjob, and then they lie together with their fingers and their legs intertwined until it’s time for dinner. Adam keeps holding Tommy’s hand as they come out of the bedroom to meet the rest of the troupe.

Neil looks up, noticing them, and Tommy yanks his hand out of Adam’s grasp, blushing fiercely. Adam doesn’t say anything, just puts his hand at the small of Tommy’s back and guides him into the front lounge. Neil gives Adam a weird glance that Tommy can’t interpret, one of those brother-speak looks, but all Adam does is smile and ask Sasha to pass the pepper.

Nobody even says a word when Tommy follows Adam back to his room for bed. He and Adam don’t do anything but snuggle and watch a movie, but Tommy turns to Adam and asks, “Do you think they know?”

“No,” Adam answers quietly. “They wouldn’t assume.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tommy admits.

“I’ll wait until you’re ready,” Adam says. He presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “I love you.”

***

  


  
**SEPTEMBER**   


  


Apprehension eats away at Tommy as they approach a night in a hotel, their first in a while. He and Adam have traded handjobs and, in Adam’s case, blowjobs, as Tommy’s still too chickenshit to go that far. But tonight they’ll be in a real bed, completely alone, and he’s just not sure he can go any further than they have so far.

He lets Adam push him down on the bed and kiss him thoroughly; it actually eases his mind, a little, to know that somewhere inside himself, he craves Adam’s touch. It’s comforting as much as it is frightening.

Then Adam slides his hand into Tommy’s briefs, reaching around to cup his ass, and Tommy flinches. Adam sits up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I don’t think I can. I mean, I can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t want you to fuck me,” Tommy says, averting his eyes. He knows it’s something Adam wants, but—

“Is that what you’re worried about?” Adam asks. “Baby, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We don’t have to fuck if it bothers you. I can wait until you’re ready, or we don’t have to do it at all if you never want it. Or… Tommy… You can top me, if that’s what you want. Or, whatever, we don’t even have to go there, it’s okay.”

“Wait—” Tommy looks up, meets Adam’s eyes. “You would do that for me?”

“Let you fuck me?” Adam asks.

“Yeah.”

“Of course. If that’s what you want,” Adam says gently.

“I thought you—I thought you liked to be on top.”

“Yeah, I do, but that doesn’t mean it always has to be that way.” He grins. “Do you want to fuck me, Tommy Joe?”

“We could… try that,” Tommy whispers. “Are you sure?”

Adam bends over him again and kisses him softly. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want it, baby.”

It’s embarrassing, how much Adam has to instruct him. Tommy just feels so out of his element, unsure about every little thing. All of the bravado he’d had disappears in a flash. Yeah, he’s watched a few gay porn videos, but it’s nothing compared to actually having a man in front of him, on his hands and knees, waiting for Tommy to stick his dick in his ass.

Adam sinks down to his elbows, lengthening the graceful curve of his back, and rolls his hips back against Tommy’s fingers.

“God, this is weird,” Tommy admits under his breath.

“You alright?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“I’ve done this before.” Adam looks over his shoulder at Tommy. “You alright?” he asks again.

Tommy twists his fingers, staring down in concentration. The tight, slick constriction feels foreign, yes, but Tommy’s not completely oblivious. He thinks for a second about how it will feel to sink into Adam, to feel Adam squeezing around him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” he stutters.

“Then fuck me,” Adam whispers.

Tommy nods. It takes him a moment to get himself in order. He withdraws his fingers, fumbles the condom packet and finally gets it on, then slicks his cock. Adam stays still, waiting for him, his ass shiny with wetness where Tommy made a mess of the lube. Tommy shuffles up close. Adam rocks backwards, rubbing his ass against Tommy’s cock.

“Oh, Jesus.”

“You want to?” Adam asks.

Tommy bites his lip and nods again. He doesn’t wait for Adam to ask again; he lines up and pushes in, before he can talk himself out of it.

“Oh, fuck, Adam, _fuck_ ,” he gasps.

Adam opens up for him with a shuddering groan, dropping his arms and sliding his hands underneath the pillow. Tommy watches the muscles in his back tense and relax, tense and relax, until finally he’s bottomed out inside Adam and they both stop moving.

“Tommy,” Adam groans. “Tommy, please.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” Tommy breathes.

“You okay?”

“It’s just—It’s different. It’s really different, but it’s… I don’t know. It’s not, at the same time.”

“Can you move for me, baby?” Adam asks. Tommy eventually recognizes the strangled note in Adam’s voice.

He shakes off the feeling of incredible weirdness and lays his hands carefully on Adam’s back. “Yeah, right, sure.”

“I’m not gonna break, Tommy,” Adam tells him. Tommy takes that as permission to start moving, start _fucking_. He slides his hands around to Adam’s hips and grips tightly, rocking out slowly just to thrust back in fast. “Oh, fuck, yeah,” Adam groans.

“Is that good?”

“Yes, Tommy, just keep—”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this… You’re so fucking hot, Adam…”

Adam braces himself with one hand on the wall at the head of the bed and pushes himself back onto Tommy’s cock. Tommy sits back on his heels, dragging Adam with him, and Adam keeps up the pace, taking control of their back and forth motion.

“This okay?” he asks, panting.

Tommy clings to Adam, leaving faint red scratches on his skin, and mumbles something he hopes sounds affirmative. He’s so close; Adam’s so tight and hot around him, Tommy’s not going to last. He says as much to Adam.

“It’s okay, baby, come on, come for me, I wanna feel it.”

Adam’s coaxing is all Tommy needs. He lurches forwards, hunched over Adam, and grips his shoulder hard. Adam twists under him and catches Tommy’s mouth in a sideways kiss. It hits Tommy like a punch to the stomach, and it’s definitely the hardest he’s come in a long fucking time. He sits back on his heels, tying off the condom and dropping it over the side of the bed before he lies back, arms spread, and catches his breath.

Adam turns around. Sweat glistens on his throat and his hair sticks to his forehead. “You good?” he asks.

“That was… Adam…” Tommy breathes. He flaps his hand ineffectually. “Amazing.”

Adam visibly relaxes, his lips stretching into a smile.

“Lie back,” Tommy says. He gets his legs under him and pushes up on his hands and knees as Adam slowly leans back against the pillows. Tommy reaches for Adam’s cock and starts stroking the way he knows Adam likes, tight and slow to start, and then he bends down and kisses the top of Adam’s thigh.

“Tommy—”

“Shh,” Tommy says quickly. “Just don’t say anything, okay? Not yet.”

Adam nods and presses his lips together tightly.

Tommy kisses his way in to the crease of Adam’s thigh, which makes Adam twitch but he keeps his word and doesn’t speak. He lifts his eyes and sees—sees Adam’s cock, hard and flushed and huge right in front of his face. He squeezes gently around the base and glances up at Adam’s face; he has one hand clamped over his mouth and his eyes are screwed shut.

Tommy kisses Adam’s cock, right above where his fingers are wrapped around it. Adam makes a muffled noise behind his hand. Tommy tentatively licks a stripe all the way up to the head, which tastes weird and different where the precome has smeared.

“You don’t have to—”

“You want me to, right?”

“Oh, god, Tommy…”

Tommy can’t quite bring himself to suck Adam’s cock into his mouth—it’s just too big; he’s sure it wouldn’t even fit—but he kisses it again and follows the motion of his hand with his tongue. He wants to suck; he’s insanely curious, but it’s too big of a step right now. He’s trying to get used to the taste, at least, and work himself up to sucking Adam some other time.

“Tommy, Tommy, I’m gonna come, baby,” Adam murmurs under his breath. He reaches down and pets Tommy’s hair. Tommy takes Adam’s hand and sits up. Adam clings to him as Tommy strokes him off, and he doesn’t let go even after Tommy wipes them both off with the sheet and lies down beside him.

“You okay?” Adam asks. He pulls Tommy close and wraps his arms around him.

“I think so,” Tommy replies. “I hope so. I mean, I hope that was good.”

Adam hugs him tight. “You were awesome. Thanks for trying it with me.”

Tommy rubs his nose against Adam’s throat. “Thanks for letting me.”

***

Adam sprawls back against the pillowed headboard and pulls Tommy into his arms. Tommy settles between Adam’s legs, ignoring the bulge of Adam’s dick, which he can feel against his back. He’s okay with snuggling; it’s normal, it’s good. He’s comfortable in Adam’s arms like this, with Adam’s bare chest emanating warmth that Tommy can feel through his t-shirt, and his thighs bracketing Tommy’s hips and keeping him still.

Adam lazily strokes his hand over Tommy’s stomach for a while, and Tommy falls into the trap and slips into a sleepy doze. When Tommy gives in and closes his eyes, Adam moves his hand beneath Tommy’s t-shirt and keeps up the same motion, only this time it’s much warmer, and Tommy doesn’t feel like he’s falling asleep anymore.

“Tell me something,” Adam murmurs. His breath ruffles Tommy’s hair.

“What?” Tommy asks. He keeps his voice soft to match Adam’s.

“Tell me what you think about when you’re jerking off.” Adam’s voice is pitched low—Tommy recognizes his “sexy” voice, the one he uses during the show—but there’s an underlying playfulness that tells Tommy he can laugh it off if Tommy wants to change the subject.

“You,” Tommy answers quickly. _Like ripping off a band-aid_ , he thinks. The problem with his short and simple answer is that he knows Adam will question him.

Adam doesn’t, though. Instead, he makes a rumbling noise in his chest and drags his fingernails lightly across Tommy’s chest, underneath his shirt. Tommy gasps and automatically arches up into the touch. He exhales through clenched teeth and settles back against Adam’s chest a moment later, holding himself stiffly.

“Tell me a fantasy you have,” Adam whispers into his ear.

A familiar image pops into Tommy’s mind. He blushes fiercely and shakes his head. “No.”

“I won’t judge you.” Adam kisses the side of his head. “I wanna know what you like, baby. Please? I promise I won’t laugh, or think you’re weird, or anything like that.”

“It’s… You won’t like it.”

“How do you know that?”

“You just won’t,” Tommy says firmly. He crosses his arms over his chest, trapping Adam’s hand.

“Tell me your fantasy, Tommy Joe,” Adam breathes. He puts just the barest hint of that melodic, hypnotic rhythm behind the words, and Tommy opens his mouth to obey without thinking.

“It starts with just me,” he whispers. “I’m sleeping, and I feel something touch my arms and my legs, so I wake up.”

“What is it?” Adam prompts gently. Tommy closes his eyes and hugs himself tighter. Adam’s hand slips out from under his shirt and he folds his arms over Tommy’s, holding him close.

“It’s—hands. Someone holding my arms and someone else holding my legs.”

“Then what do they do?”

“They undress me,” Tommy continues haltingly. The words feel thick and dangerous in his mouth, and he’s afraid to let them out, even in the darkness of Adam’s room, but something about Adam’s gentle tone keeps him talking. “They hold me still. They’re—They’re both men, and I—I ask what they’re doing, and they say they’re giving me what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

Tommy ignores Adam’s question. “I tell them no, I don’t want it. I don’t want them. I don’t want them touching me, but they do anyway. One of them—One of them spreads my legs and… _touches_ me, touches my ass, and he says that I like it.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does he rape you?” Adam asks.

“Yes, but…” Tommy shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like that, when he’s inside me. I don’t know—I mean, I’ve never—I don’t know what it’s like, but it’s not _bad_ , and I—”

“You get off on that, even though you don’t want to,” Adam finishes.

“Yeah.” Tommy opens his eyes again and takes a moment to steady his breathing. His face feels hot, and he wonders if Adam can feel the heat of his blush too. Tommy cracks a smile and tries to change the mood. “Run of the mill rape fantasy, right? You don’t have to say anything, I know it’s—”

“It’s not weird,” Adam says quickly. “A lot of people have rape fantasies.” He takes a deep breath that pushes his chest against Tommy’s back. “Tommy, do you know about safewords?”

“Sure, like, for S&M stuff, right?”

“Yeah, but not just for that. It’s for when it’s too much, and you want to say no without _saying_ no. Do you understand?”

Tommy squirms against Adam’s grip and Adam lets him go. Tommy twists around so they can face each other. Adam regards him calmly. “Tommy, do you want to say no to me?”

For a moment, Tommy doesn’t know how to answer. He never wants to tell Adam no, but… He can’t quite let himself go when they’re alone, either. He looks around the room, avoiding looking at whatever expression is on Adam’s face. “And you’ll just keep going?”

“If that’s what you want,” Adam answers quietly. “Think about it, Tommy, don’t tell me right now. Think about a safeword to say ‘stop’, something you can always remember. If you say it, I’ll stop. But if you don’t, I’ll keep going. Do you want to do that, Tommy?”

Tommy feels like his entire body is calling out to Adam, like they’re magnetized and he’s fighting the natural pull, and he clamps down on the urge to agree right away. “I’ll think about it,” he replies, because Adam told him to think about it first. He _needs_ to think about it. He needs to think of a safeword, too.

***

Two days later, Tommy goes into the back bedroom of the bus and finds Adam on his laptop, typing. Tommy closes the door behind him and stands there, leaning back against it, until Adam stops and looks up at him.

“Hey, baby,” he says. He pats the bed beside him. “You comin’ in?”

“I thought about it,” Tommy replies. He can see the moment Adam catches on, because the smile slides off his face and he just looks calm and serious. Tommy has no idea how Adam controls his expression like that, but he’s envious of the skill. He wishes fervently that he could stop himself from blushing and pinching his lips together nervously.

“And what did you think?” Adam prompts.

“I thought of a safeword.”

“That’s good.” Adam pats the bed again, gentler this time. “Come here, Tommy.”

Tommy goes to him and sits cross-legged on the bed, facing Adam. “I want to do it,” he says quickly. “I want you to know that I _want_ you. I do, Adam, I really fucking do, I just can’t—I can’t—”

“I know, I know,” Adam replies, dragging Tommy forward until Tommy collapses against Adam’s chest. “I don’t want to do this here, not like this, but tomorrow night we’re in a hotel, okay? I want to spread you out on that wide bed and make you lose control.”

“You’re gonna fuck me?” he asks nervously.

“I’m gonna make you want it so bad, Tommy. You’re going to love it, I promise.” Adam wraps his arms around Tommy’s back and squeezes him. “You have to tell me some things first,” he whispers. “I don’t want to hurt you. Not even if that’s what you want. I don’t want to hurt you at all this first time.”

“I don’t even know if—”

“We’re not gonna go there,” Adam assures him. “But you said before that you imagined them holding you down.”

“Yeah,” Tommy answers in a very small voice.

“Do you need me to tie you up?” Adam asks softly.

“I don’t… I don’t think so?” Tommy lets the image sink into his mind. The idea of being completely at Adam’s mercy is simultaneously terrifying and thrilling; Tommy’s not really sure if he’ll try to physically push Adam away, or if just telling him no will be enough. “Maybe,” he finally replies.

“I don’t have handcuffs here,” Adam says. “I wouldn’t want to hurt your wrists with metal anyway. But I’ll bring scarves or ties if you want them.”

“Maybe just in case,” Tommy agrees. He shifts nervously in Adam’s arms, fighting the urge to squirm away. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“It’s alright,” Adam replies, holding him tightly. “I get it. Just one more thing. Tell me your safeword.”

“Libra.”

Adam kisses the top of Tommy’s head and then reaches for his computer. “I wanted to show you this,” he says brightly. “Someone sent me links to some videos of last night’s show, you wanna see?”

Tommy exhales slowly and relaxes in Adam’s arms, nodding against Adam’s chest and twisting around to see the screen. Adam doesn’t mention anything about sex or safewords or hotel nights, and they just watch videos and chat about the show and the fans until Tommy decides he should head to bed.

He leaves Adam with a kiss on the cheek and a smile, and Adam wiggles his fingers in a little wave as Tommy shuts the door.

***

When they get to the hotel the next night, Adam corners Tommy in the elevator and grinds against his ass. Tommy can feel the bulge of Adam’s cock through his pants, and he knows Adam’s not even all the way hard, yet. Tommy’s breath quickens; Adam holds tight to Tommy’s arms and doesn’t let him move away.

“I’m gonna fuck you tonight, Tommy,” Adam whispers in Tommy’s ear. “You’re gonna be so desperate for my cock.”

“No, I won’t,” Tommy replies shakily. Adam’s hands tighten around his biceps. “I don’t want it.”

The elevator doors open with a cheerful ding. Adam steps neatly around him and turns to smirk over his shoulder. “You’re lying,” he says. He takes Tommy’s hand and leads him to his room.

Once inside, Adam stops by the door and starts emptying his pockets on the table. He lays out two hotel keycards in their little white envelopes, as well as his phone and wallet. “This is for another room,” he says, sliding one card to the edge of the table. “I want you to stay with me, tonight, when we’re done, but… If you want to leave, this room’s for you.”

Tommy’s oddly touched by the gesture, and he’s tempted to take the key and run right now, but the last thing he wants is to back out and be a total coward. He also doesn’t want to leave Adam alone.

“Thanks,” he finally replies. “But I’ll stay.”

“In case you change your mind,” Adam says simply. He reaches for Tommy’s hand and pulls him close. “I know you like this,” he murmurs, then turns his head and captures Tommy’s lips in a slow, deep kiss. Tommy melts against him and tries to lose himself in it, tries to not think about where the kiss leads.

Adam takes him over to the bed and pushes him down onto his back and Tommy falls willingly. But when Adam crawls on top of him, pressing his weight down to keep Tommy still, Tommy starts to shake his head.

“You like this,” Adam says, kissing him again. “Tell me you like kissing me.”

“No.”

“I know you do. Tell me you like it, baby,” Adam whispers sweetly. “Tell me how much you like tasting me. You taste so fucking good, Tommy. Tell me you like this.”

“I don’t,” Tommy gasps. Adam pulls away, just far enough that Tommy can’t reach him, and Tommy strains his neck in an effort to follow him.

“Ah, ah,” Adam scolds. “You’re lying, baby. Tell me the truth.”

“I can’t.”

Adam teases him with a quick brush of his lips, but fakes him out and sits all the way back on his heels, straddling Tommy’s legs. His hands fall to Tommy’s waist and start stroking the waistband of his jeans.

“You want me to take these off, baby?” he asks. Tommy’s cock is straining the denim already, but he shakes his head. Adam raises his eyebrows. “You’re lying again. Tell me you want them off.”

“No.”

“I’m gonna take them off whether you want me to or not, baby,” Adam says simply. “The question is, am I gonna make you come before I do?”

Adam leans down and slides Tommy’s shirt up a few inches, exposing a strip of skin low on Tommy’s stomach. “I love the way you taste,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along Tommy’s hip. “Oh, Tommy, you’re gonna love this, just admit you want it.”

Tommy clenches his hands into fists and tries not to thrust his stomach up at Adam’s face. Adam reaches over and grabs both of Tommy’s wrists, though, and while that doesn’t keep Tommy from thrusting, it does help him feel more contained and controlled.

“You want this so fucking bad, baby, I know,” Adam moans softly. He latches onto Tommy’s cock over his jeans, and Tommy can _feel_ his mouth there, but he can’t at the same time, there’s too much fabric between them, and he’s already about to go crazy. “Admit that you want me, and I’ll give you everything you want. I’ll give you more. I’ll make you so fucking happy, Tommy, just admit that you want it.”

“No,” Tommy answers through gritted teeth. “I won’t. I _don’t_.”

“You really fuckin’ do.”

Adam lets go of his hands and starts—very fucking slowly—popping the button on Tommy’s jeans and drawing down the zipper. It only barely relieves the pressure, and then Adam just leaves the pants there and goes back to kissing and licking his way across Tommy’s belly. He strokes his thumbs along the elastic of Tommy’s underwear but makes no move to pull it down yet.

Tommy’s hands fly to Adam’s shoulders and squeeze tightly. He wants to yank Adam down, push his face into Tommy’s crotch, but now the familiar fear is starting to sink in, and he can’t make himself push or pull, he can’t escape this weird limbo of wanting and not-wanting.

“It’s alright, baby,” Adam whispers. “You like this. You like my mouth.”

“No,” Tommy breathes, but that’s a lie, he knows it’s a lie, and so does Adam. In the next second, Tommy’s jeans are down around his thighs and Adam’s stretching his underwear down over his cock as well. Tommy moans when Adam’s warm breath gusts over his bare skin and digs his nails into Adam’s shoulders.

“Yeah, baby, tell me,” Adam says. “Let me hear you. Say you want it.”

“No.”

“Yes, say it—”

“No, I don’t—”

“Yes, Tommy, you _do_ , you want it so much, I can _see_ it, I _know_ you.”

“I don’t, get off—”

“You love this,” Adam says firmly. He opens his mouth and sinks down on Tommy’s cock, and Jesus Christ, Tommy loves Adam’s mouth. Adam’s only blown him a handful of times, but he’s already learning the tricks that get Tommy off in record time. Adam seems to be pulling out all the stops, as well. He brings his hands into the picture, wrapping one around the base of Tommy’s dick and using the other to rub the stretch of skin right behind Tommy’s balls.

Tommy can’t help but cry out and grab at Adam’s hair. It’s instinctual and he doesn’t have the energy to spare to resist. “Oh, fuck, oh, Adam,” Tommy gasps. If he’s hurting Adam by pulling his hair too hard, Adam doesn’t let on. Tommy screws his eyes shut tight and grits his teeth, and then he feels the careful press of Adam’s index finger against his asshole.

“Adam—”

Tommy comes before he can even get the objection out. He feels wrung out after, exhausted, but Adam just sits up and wipes the edge of his mouth and looks down at Tommy with a predatory smile.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says. “I love you.”

“Adam. I don’t think I can…”

“Do you remember your word?”

Tommy snaps his mouth shut and nods.

“Then it doesn’t matter what you think you can do. It only matters what _I_ do, and what you say. Tell me you want me to fuck you, Tommy.”

“But I don’t.”

“That’s not true.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Shhhh.” Adam reaches down and gently presses his finger to Tommy’s lips. “Just relax. You’re okay. You don’t have to be scared.”

“I just—”

“Quiet now.” Adam taps Tommy’s lips twice before removing his hand. He takes Tommy by the wrists again and stretches them up over his head. “Hold onto the pillow now. Don’t let go. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy answers honestly. He shakes his head.

“Just hold it tight. Squeeze it. Let it out through your fists,” Adam instructs him calmly. He layers his hands over Tommy’s and squeezes, clenching Tommy’s fists around the corners of the pillow. “Don’t let go.”

“Adam…”

“I have the ties if you need them,” Adam says, “but you can do this, baby. Just relax. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

 _I already feel good_ , Tommy thinks. He doesn’t feel _entirely_ good; nervousness is eating away at him, making his stomach all fluttery and tense. The orgasm helped, obviously, but Tommy can feel those knots coiling back up.

Adam gets off the bed and kneels on the floor, and Tommy obediently stays still and holds onto the pillowcase. His fists tighten when he realizes Adam’s digging through his bag for… something. Condoms, maybe. Or lube? What else could he need?

Adam doesn’t let Tommy see whatever he found, though. He comes to the edge of the bed and starts picking at the laces of Tommy’s boots, occasionally stroking one hand up Tommy’s calf to soothe him. When he finally has Tommy’s shoes off, Adam drags the pants and underwear off in one swift motion, and then Tommy’s completely bared to him.

“You want your shirt off?”

Tommy shakes his head.

“I want it off,” Adam says.

Tommy wants to pull the hem down to cover himself, but he doesn’t let go of the pillow. He sucks in his stomach as Adam reaches for him, shying away from the touch, but Adam just keeps moving, lays his palms on Tommy’s hips and slowly slides them up under Tommy’s shirt until he’s high enough to rub his thumbs in tantalizing circles around Tommy’s nipples. Tommy squeezes the pillow tight and closes his eyes again, and then Adam yanks the shirt until it’s over Tommy’s head and just hanging around his wrists.

“Baby, let go for just a second,” Adam murmurs, gently rubbing Tommy’s knuckles. Tommy releases the pillow one hand at a time, long enough for Adam to take the shirt away, and then Adam guides his hands back into place.

Tommy shivers, more from the exposure than from the cold, though the room is slightly too chilly to be comfortable. Adam strokes his hands back down Tommy’s chest, then repeats the whole process: up again, teasing Tommy’s nipples, then down to his hips, then up, then down, maintaining the same firm pressure. The tension in his stomach slowly eases under the massage, but the nervous butterflies still haven’t gone.

Adam bends down and starts following his hands with his mouth, and he moves much slower now. He pauses to traces invisible patterns in Tommy’s skin with his tongue, taking his time and drawing out each touch until Tommy’s shaking with his need for more.

“It’s alright, Tommy, relax,” Adam whispers against Tommy’s chest. “Relax for me. I know you want it. It’s gonna feel so good, baby.”

Adam then sits back on his heels and grabs Tommy by the hips, pushing his ass up in the air and lifting Tommy’s knees. Tommy squeezes his fists around the pillow and clenches his eyes shut tight. He feels Adam lean over him again, feels the heat of Adam’s body between his thighs, and then Adam licks his ass.

Tommy’s eyes fly open. “What the fuck, Adam—”

“Shhh, I’m gonna take care of you, baby,” Adam murmurs. He gives Tommy a smug, mischievous smirk and ducks his head down between Tommy’s legs again.

His tongue flickers around Tommy’s asshole, teasing him with a hint of wetness and heat and just a faint amount of pressure, and Tommy has to close his eyes again. He doesn’t even realize he’s rolling his hips up and pushing his ass against Adam’s face until Adam adjusts his grip on Tommy’s body, curling him up so his knees touch his chest. He feels extremely exposed and helpless, caught on his back with his feet in the air and his hands as good as handcuffed to the pillow, but it doesn’t stop him from squirming and shifting to get more of Adam’s tongue on him.

“Talk to me, baby,” Adam murmurs. Tommy can feel Adam’s breath against his ass. “Tell me how you feel.”

“Fuckin’—fuckin’ weird,” Tommy gasps as Adam licks into him again. “Oh, god, what—”

Adam takes his time and only comes up when Tommy’s a sweaty, shaking mess. Tommy stares up at him blearily; his chin and lips are shiny with saliva and his perfectly coiffed hair is sticking to his forehead, and he looks so satisfied that Tommy wonders if he’d jerked himself off while eating out Tommy’s ass.

“No one’s ever done that for you,” Adam says.

“Fuck, no.”

Adam sighs and rolls his neck. His throat is glistening with sweat. When he looks back down at Tommy, he says, “You’re so gorgeous like this. When you’re so high on pleasure you can’t even think. I love this. I love you like this.”

Adam’s right: thinking is beyond Tommy’s capabilities at the moment. His cock is achingly hard again— _already_ , and seriously, how long did Adam spend rimming him that he’s about to come again so soon?

“You love it too,” Adam tells him.

“What?”

“Say it and I’ll fuck you right now.”

“I don’t—I can’t,” Tommy gasps. “You’re just too—”

Adam shushes him before Tommy can finish the thought. He slips his hand between Tommy’s legs and strokes his finger over Tommy’s asshole, rubbing up and down his crack. Tommy shakes his head and pulls the pillowcase tight between his hands.

“You don’t want this? Then fucking fight me, Tommy, because I don’t think I can help myself anymore.”

Adam leans over him, catching Tommy’s flailing legs and hooking them over his shoulders, and kisses him ever so gently, just a brush of their lips. Tommy blinks up at him in shock, since Adam was just _licking his ass_ , but he’s too far gone already to even object. The kiss is at odds with Adam’s words and his body language, but when Tommy looks into Adam’s eyes, he sees nothing but love. He tries to reflect trust back at Adam.

“I am going to fuck you,” Adam growls after a moment. “You better fucking fight me. I want you to fight me and lose.”

He presses his fingertip to Tommy’s asshole and it slides in. Tommy’s mouth drops open wide as he tries to parse through the sensations and put a name to what it feels like. It’s strange, so fucking strange, and he’s always been too chickenshit to ever try this himself because he thought it would hurt, but it doesn’t. It feels like the easiest thing in the world for Adam to push his finger into Tommy’s ass, all the way up to the knuckle.

Adam curls his finger, twists and rubs inside him in ways Tommy doesn’t even know how to describe. When Adam pulls back, Tommy hears the snick of a cap opening. He looks for Adam’s hands, just to see, but he’s so twisted up he doesn’t have a good view. Adam’s hand reappears at his ass, this time with two slick fingers.

Tommy flinches; his hands spasm open-and-shut on the pillow. Adam rubs his other hand firmly over Tommy’s belly.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he whispers. “It’s not going to hurt.”

He smears around the lube and teases Tommy’s hole with quick little dips of his first finger. When he finally comes back in with both fingers, Tommy turns his head against his shoulder and moans out loud. Adam plays with him like before, twisting and curling and rubbing, and suddenly Tommy feels the swoop of impending orgasm. He blinks away the sparkles in his eyes and tries to focus on the ceiling light, anything to keep himself steady, but Adam curls his fingers again and Tommy’s eyes go blurry.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” Tommy whines.

Adam pulls out and adds a third finger, first playing around Tommy’s hole and then pushing in all at once. He thrusts his fingers in and out; they slide easily through the lube, but the stretch is unlike anything Tommy’s ever experienced. Adam curls his fingers expertly, pressing against that spot inside him every time. Tommy’s cock jerks against his stomach, ready to go off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Adam—” he gasps.

He feels Adam’s pinky playing around his asshole, teasing, taunting Tommy with the promise of more. He tucks his fingers together and slides just the tips in, just enough to stretch Tommy a little bit more, and then all of the sudden, his hand is gone.

It takes Tommy a second to realize that Adam’s fingers aren’t magically coming back. He looks around wildly and spots Adam’s hand—fingers shiny with lube—wrapped around his own cock, his pants sagging open around his thighs. He’s staring down at Tommy with glazed eyes and an intensely lustful expression that makes Tommy’s face flush.

He watches Adam stroke his cock a few times, sees the blunt head disappear into Adam’s fist as he smears around the lube and his precome. Tommy stares.

Adam reaches for something behind him and Tommy recognizes the flash of a silvery condom wrapper. Tommy bites his bottom lip hard and squeezes his eyes shut again, whispering a prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in.

Tommy finally feels the thick head of Adam’s cock against his ass and he breathes out a sigh of relief. That stretch had been strangely addictive. He rocks his hips back, trying to find the right angle.

Adam pushes in, just a little. Just enough for Tommy to feel the stretch. Adam’s cock is thicker than his fingers, that’s for sure. But then Adam doesn’t start moving, doesn’t push the rest of the way in, doesn’t pull out, doesn’t touch Tommy anywhere else but his ass. Tommy blinks a few times and looks up, finding Adam’s face—downturned and creased with concentration—in the dim light.

“What?” he asks breathlessly.

“Tell me you want it,” Adam says.

“No,” Tommy replies, already shaking his head. “I can’t.”

Adam lifts his head so the light falls across his cheeks. Tommy can see how much he wants to move, to _fuck_. “I’m not going to give you anything else until you ask for it.”

“What? No!”

Tommy tries rocking back and shifting his hips, but Adam grabs him around the waist and holds him perfectly still, his large hands tight as a vice around Tommy’s much smaller body. Adam’s thumbs almost meet in the middle of Tommy’s stomach, right above his belly button. Tommy wonders idly if he’ll bruise there.

“Don’t fucking move,” Adam growls. “You want my cock? You ask for it.”

“Adam, don’t—”

“Tell me you want my dick. Tell me how fucking good it feels in your ass, Tommy. Say it out loud. Admit it.”

“I _can’t_ ,” Tommy insists.

“Say it, Tommy Joe. You want my cock inside you. I know you do.”

“ _Adam_ ,” Tommy groans. He tries rolling his hips again, but Adam’s hands squeeze around him.

“You want me inside you. You need it. _Beg for it_ ,” Adam says fiercely.

Tommy’s head thrashes against the pillow. His hands are aching from clenching the pillowcase so tight, for so long—he can’t even force himself to adjust his grip. Tears slide down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes and Adam strokes his thumb gently over Tommy’s belly.

“God, Adam, please, please, please, fuck me, please,” he cries. “Please, I need it, I need you in me, please, god, Adam, please don’t leave me like this, please fuck me.”

Adam drives his cock all the way in. It hurts, it does hurt, but Adam keeps moving steadily, letting the long, slow grind bring them together, and Tommy screams Adam’s name. He suddenly can’t keep his mouth shut. His throat feels raw already, and not just from the tears clogging it. He throws his head back and moans long and loud, words like “please,” “more,” and “fuck” leaving his lips in quick succession.

Adam pulls out at the same achingly slow, perfect speed he started with, but on the second thrust, he picks up the pace. Tommy’s ready for it; he’s had enough teasing. Adam settles Tommy’s legs over his shoulders and leans over him, forcing the curve of Tommy’s body even sharper. He finally drops his head down and closes his lips over Tommy’s in a messy, wet kiss.

Their tongues thrust against each other, but Tommy’s too frantic to keep their lips locked. He shakes his head, moaning and gasping with every breath, and slides his mouth against Adam’s whenever he can remember how.

Tommy doesn’t realize he’s let go of the pillow until Adam’s hair tangles around his little finger. He adjusts his grip and yanks Adam closer, clinging on for dear life as Adam fucks him hard and deep.

Adam finally gives up on kissing when Tommy stops participating. Tommy’s babbling—he knows this, in the back of his mind, but he can’t stem the constant flow of pleading and cursing.

“Tell me how it feels,” Adam orders him breathlessly.

“Oh, god, Adam,” Tommy gasps. “So big. So fucking big, holy shit. Oh, god, oh, fuck, Adam, feels so fucking big, Adam, please, please—I feel—I feel full, like—I don’t know, Adam, please, I need you, I need it, I need more, please, Adam, oh, fuck—”

“Yes, baby, tell me you love it. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I want it, oh god, Adam, I want it, I want your fucking cock, _please_ —”

“So beautiful, baby,” Adam says. “So fucking beautiful like this.”

Adam’s fucking into him hard and fast now, but Tommy doesn’t even care. The too-full, too-stretched feeling has left him completely, and now there’s just the delicious slide of slick skin and Adam panting hot air over his face.

“You gonna come, baby? You gonna come on my cock?”

“Fuck, fuck, yeah, Adam, please, god, I wanna come,” Tommy moans.

“Let go of my hair, Tommy,” Adam whispers. It takes concentration, but Tommy manages to untangle his fingers from Adam’s thick hair and let him sit up. Adam pushes his pants further down his thighs and swiftly yanks his shirt over his head.

Adam takes hold of Tommy’s hips again and pulls him up into Adam’s lap. He starts thrusting again at the same pace, but in this position, he can use those insanely sexy body rolls Tommy envies onstage. Tommy grabs the pillow for something to cling to and his body rocks with Adam’s thrusts, sliding further up the bed until Tommy can push his hands against the headboard for leverage to meet Adam thrust for thrust.

Adam reaches for Tommy’s cock and strokes him with a loose fist. Tommy’s glad of it, though he normally holds himself pretty tightly; anything more intense right now would probably send him over the edge on the spot.

After a few more thrusts, though, Adam tightens his hand. “I want you to come, Tommy,” he whispers, not even pausing when Tommy thrashes and arches his back high.

It only takes another few strokes before Tommy’s overcome by a fog of pleasure so intense it brings fresh tears. He moans uncontrollably, thrusting up into Adam’s hand and back onto Adam’s cock, and it takes him several minutes to come down from the endorphin high.

Adam’s still fucking him, but he’s less focused now, and when he leans down to bracket Tommy’s shoulders with his arms, Tommy sees that he’s shaking. Tommy twines his arms around Adam’s neck and pulls him down for a lazy, breathless kiss, a messy slide of their lips as they both pant for air.

Adam seals their lips together when he comes, pushing all his noise into Tommy’s mouth for Tommy to taste and savor. The motion of his hips stutters and slows, and Adam finally breaks their kiss to rest his forehead against Tommy’s sternum. His whole body is shuddering. Tommy holds him close, overwhelmed himself, and lets Adam catch his breath.

“You feel okay?” Adam asks after a long moment.

“Yeah,” Tommy answers.

Adam pushes himself up on his hands. “I’m gonna go get a washcloth, okay?”

Tommy nods and lets Adam go. There’s an awkward, awful moment when Adam pulls out and takes off the condom; Tommy’s left feeling cold and sore and exposed, even though his legs are flat against the bed and Adam isn’t even looking.

Adam disappears for a few minutes; Tommy listens to the water running in the bathroom and drifts, his mind gloriously blank. When Adam returns, he wipes a warm, damp cloth gently around Tommy’s ass, cleaning up the excess lube, and through the mess of Tommy’s come on his stomach. He uses a clean washcloth, cool this time, and wipes Tommy’s forehead and chest as well, which feels amazing after all the sweat.

Adam finally strips off his pants and lies next to Tommy, pulling the covers over them both and tucking it up around their necks. They both squirm and shift closer together under the blanket until Tommy’s wrapped in Adam’s arms, snuggled in against his chest. He loses track of time pretty quickly and drifts off to sleep.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Adam’s phone alarm wakes them both early the next morning. They push aside the blankets and grumble about the time, and it feels almost like a normal morning. Adam gets out of bed and stretches, putting the firm muscles of his back on display for Tommy.

Then Tommy tries to stand up. His knees, too weak to hold him, give out instantly, and Tommy finds himself sagging in Adam’s arms.

“Oh, Tommy,” he sighs. He doesn’t sound all that surprised, though.

“I’m just… tired, I guess,” Tommy tells him.

“You’re probably kinda sore,” Adam replies. He looks at the clock and groans, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “I wish we had more time. I’d make it better. A hot shower will help, though. You wanna go first?”

Tommy nods and Adam helps him into the bathroom, then reaches into the shower to twist the taps on. Tommy, still unbalanced, stumbles and clutches Adam’s shoulder desperately.

“I don’t think I can. I’ll just wait until before the show,” he says, but Adam shakes his head.

“You’re not gonna wait that long. Come on.”

Adam herds him into the shower stall, grasping Tommy’s arm firmly to keep him upright, and then presses him back against the slick tile wall. Tommy slings his arm around Adam’s neck and relaxes, letting the water wash over him.

Adam squirts some shampoo into his hand and starts rubbing it through Tommy’s hair. “You okay, baby? How are you feeling, for real?”

“Tired,” Tommy says. That’s the easiest answer. “Sore, like you said. I’m just—” Unexpected tears clog his throat and Tommy trails off.

“Let it out, Tommy,” Adam prompts him.

Tommy bursts into full-on sobs, tears streaming down his cheeks with the water. Adam wraps him up tight in his arms and they sway together under the spray. He rubs his hands gently up and down Tommy’s back.

“Say whatever you want to say. Don’t think about it, just tell me.”

“I just—I just—I… Thank you,” Tommy cries, rubbing his nose against Adam’s chest. He tilts his head and leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along Adam’s collarbone. “Thank you.”

Adam reaches up to cup Tommy’s cheek. He strokes his thumb over Tommy’s lips. “Oh, honey. I love you.”

“It was—it was really good to—to push through it. I mean. I don’t want to fight you.”

“I get it,” Adam murmurs. “You did so well, Tommy. Don’t worry about anything. Just relax, let me clean you up, then you can rest once we get on the bus.”

***

They’re back on the bus the next night. Tommy, in boxers and a t-shirt, rolls out of his bunk around two in the morning and pads down the narrow hallway to Adam’s bedroom. He doesn’t knock, but Adam doesn’t look surprised to see him.

Tommy closes the door as quietly as he can and immediately strips off his shirt. Adam’s eyes are pinning him to the spot. Tommy takes a breath and pushes his boxers down his hips until they fall to the floor. He sees Adam’s gaze dip quickly down to Tommy’s dick, then flick back up and focus on his face again. Tommy licks his lips and perches on the edge of the bed, on his knees.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Adam replies.

His stare is getting more intense by the second and Tommy has to look away. He knee-walks up to the head of the bed and settles there, bare ass resting on his heels. When he finally manages to look up and meet Adam’s gaze, he finds Adam patiently watching his face and not his cock. Tommy breaks into a sheepish smile.

“Last night,” he says quietly. “The world didn’t end.”

“It didn’t?”

“No. And I liked it. A lot. I mean, you know that. I liked when you fucked me.”

Adam smiles back at him. “I’m really glad.”

Tommy squares his shoulders and tosses his hair out of his eyes. “I want you to fuck me again.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Adam reaches up with one hand and hesitates when his fingertips are about an inch away from Tommy’s collarbones. Adam swallows audibly and asks, “Are you going to fight me again?”

Tommy waits until Adam meets his eyes. He shakes his head. Adam looks a little cautious, but he raises his eyebrows, silently asking why not. Tommy sways forward and Adam’s palm flattens against his chest.

“Because I want you.”

Adam slides his other hand up Tommy’s back, starting low and moving up between his shoulder blades, and pulls him in for a slow, thorough kiss. Tommy loses himself in Adam’s taste, opening up for Adam’s tongue and letting himself sink into Adam’s hold.

Adam lays him down gently on the bed and sits up. Tommy’s mouth jaw hangs open; he’s disoriented, now that Adam isn’t kissing him. He opens his eyes to see Adam stripping off his t-shirt. He throws it to the corner of the room.

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“I want you to fuck me,” Tommy replies, his eyelids fluttering as remembered sensation washes through his body.

“Tell me again.”

“I want you, Adam. I want you. I want you.”

Tommy stretches his arms over his head and curls his fingers around the edge of the mattress. He arches his head back, imagining Adam’s mouth on him again.

“Take me,” he moans.

Adam falls to him and captures Tommy’s lips in a fiercely passionate kiss. Tommy feels Adam’s hands maneuvering between them as Adam pushes his pants down over his hips.

“Say it again,” he gasps.

Tommy finally feels Adam’s skin against his own and he closes his eyes. “I love you.”

***

Tommy quickly grows accustomed to spending his nights with Adam—in Adam’s bed on the bus, or in his room at hotels. The bedroom on the bus becomes Tommy’s favorite sanctuary for hibernation and relaxation.

One night, Adam gets back into bed after cleaning them up, but he doesn’t slide under the sheet with Tommy. He stretches out on his stomach and reaches over to traces little spirals on Tommy’s skin. He gradually moves his hand lower, dragging the sheet with him; Tommy grabs the sheet when it reaches his waist, but he lets Adam’s hand continue to move underneath it.

“Honey,” Adam whispers, “when can we start telling people? It’s one thing to be together on tour, but once we get home, if you start—start staying at my place…”

“We’ll be careful,” Tommy answers, closing his eyes. He feels Adam’s fingers stop and press into his hip a little.

“I’m not asking you to go public,” Adam says. “I just think the people closest to us should know. Like, _the gang_. They practically know already, with the amount of time we spend together.”

“They know?” Tommy can’t control the high-pitched note of fear in his voice, and Adam responds by rubbing his hip soothingly.

“No,” Adam sighs. “They don’t _know_. I do think we should tell them, though. Tommy. Look at me.”

Tommy grudgingly opens his eyes and looks over at Adam. There’s sadness in Adam’s eyes, but there’s also determination and that underlying fierce independence that Adam can never really hide.

“I know you’re scared,” Adam whispers, “and that’s okay. I’ll wait for you, I’ll wait _forever_ for you, Tommy. I just think we need someone to confide in. You especially. You need to tell someone that’s not me, baby. Just one person that you can talk to if you can’t talk to me.”

“I did tell one person,” Tommy protests.

Adam lifts an eyebrow. “Really? Who?”

Tommy bites his lip. “Brad.”

Adam’s second eyebrow joins the first. He looks more surprised than Tommy had expected, but not angry. “You told Brad about us?”

“I told Brad about _me_ ,” Tommy corrects him in a low voice. “It was before… _us_ … happened.”

“Oh,” Adam replies simply. “I didn’t know you and he were friends.”

‘Friends’ might be overstating their relationship a little. “Kind of, I guess. I can talk to him.”

“Are you sure?” As Adam asks, Tommy realizes it’s probably not normal to feel safe confiding in your boyfriend’s ex, but he doesn’t need to talk to anyone besides Adam anyway. Brad’s there in case of emergencies, Tommy supposes.

“I’ll call him if I need to, I promise.” Adam looks somewhat satisfied, and Tommy can’t help but add, “I don’t want to tell everyone yet, but I’m working on it. I’ll get there.”

Adam rolls in and kisses Tommy’s arm. “I know you will, baby.”

“I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Don’t say that—”

“No, I am. I know you don’t like to hide. I’m working on it, okay?”

Adam smiles at him. “I know you are.”

***

The fans aren’t privy to the goodnight kisses and casual snuggling like the rest of the troupe is, but they seem to be catching on quick. Adam starts making a point of avoiding Tommy when they go out to sign autographs. Tommy moves down the line slowly, signing and hugging and posing for pictures, and loses himself in the crazy energy. A handful of girls clustered together at the end of the line draw his attention and he goes over to them.

They hold out pictures for him to sign and he does. They ask for photos and he pouts at the cameras. They start asking him questions. Tommy shrugs his way through the conversation, giving short answers when he can and ignoring the questions when they’re too ridiculous.

Then one of the girls asks, “So do you like Adam?”

“Yeah, Adam’s great,” Tommy replies easily, ignoring the warning bells in his mind that tell him to tread carefully. He reaches over to sign another of the photos thrust into his face.

“Do you like kissing him?” she continues with a shrill giggle.

“Sure. It’s part of the show, y’know? Makin’ a statement.”

“Is something going on between you?” asks another girl, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I totally think you’re fucking. Right?”

Tommy fights to keep his smile from turning into a grimace. “Nope, not at all. I like girls! It’s ‘for your entertainment’, y’know? It’s all for you. Fanservice. I only like girls.”

Time to listen to the warning bells. Tommy gets away from the barrier and ignores the girls’ shouts about how he and Adam are obviously in love.

He figures he should be used to the probing, intrusive questions by now, but it always leaves him exhausted. He sighs heavily as soon as the bus door closes behind him. Sasha and Cam are at the table, talking, and Tommy goes to stand next to them. Adam rushes onto the bus and into the lounge before he can make it there; he takes Tommy’s arm and pulls him towards his room.

“Can I talk to you?”

It’s not Adam’s normal voice, the one he uses when he wants to get Tommy alone for kissing or maybe things that involve less clothing, and it makes Tommy nervous. He nods and Adam drags him into the back room.

“I know I said I wouldn’t push,” Adam says as soon as the door’s closed, “but Tommy… Oh, Tommy.” Adam closes his eyes and shakes his head. His whole demeanor is kind of freaking Tommy out a little bit, so he stays by the door, nervously pulling at the hems of his sleeves.

“What?”

“It hurts when you say those things,” Adam finally says. “I mean—I’m not expecting you to say _yes, I take it up the ass from him every night_ , but fuck, Tommy—”

“Is this about what I said to those girls?” Tommy asks incredulously. “Adam, you know that wasn’t true! I—I love you!”

“It sure as hell doesn’t feel like it, sometimes.”

“What do you want me to do? You made kissing me part of your damn show!”

“That’s not why they ask,” Adam growls. “They ask because I hold your hand. They ask because you hug me. They ask because you fit in my arms like you were born to be there. They ask because they can _see_ that I love you.”

“Tell them it’s a _fucking show_!”

“Yeah, but it’s not a fucking show, is it? It’s my _life_ , Tommy. It’s yours too! How can you stand this?”

“I—”

“Just once, just _once_ , I’d like you to be fucking _vague_. You don’t have to flat-out tell them you’re straight when you’re not.”

“If I say it once,” Tommy says stiffly, “they’ll _know_. They’ll all fucking _know_ , Adam. I don’t want them to _know_!” He ends on a shout, and he automatically reaches up to brush tears from his eyes. He looks at the wetness on his fingertips like it betrayed him. He clenches his hands into fists. “I don’t want them to know,” he says again, softening his voice as much as he can.

“What would happen if they knew?” Adam asks; his voice is calm but his eyes are hard and cold.

Tommy gropes for words for a moment before finally spitting out, “Don’t fucking do this to me.” He turns on his heel and leaves the room, and unfortunately the flimsy door isn’t capable of slamming behind him. The curtain on his bunk doesn’t make any satisfying noise either, but he still wrenches it shut with more force than necessary.

He puts his headphones on, but he doesn’t turn the volume on his iPod up very much; he wants to know if someone’s coming to talk to him. Sure enough, he hears Adam walking by the bunks, through to the front lounge, and he hears the muffled sound of Adam’s voice, and then what sounds like Cam’s voice replying. Adam walks by again a moment later and shuts himself back in his bedroom.

A few minutes after the door closes, Cam sticks her hand through Tommy’s curtain and wiggles her fingers. Tommy sighs and yanks out his earbuds, mumbling permission for her to poke her head in.

“What did he say?” he asks.

“He said he’s sorry for being an asshole but that doesn’t mean you can be an asshole too,” Cam answers promptly.

“Yeah, well. Whatever.” Tommy’s not quite ready to forgive Adam yet, but he does, at least, understand why Adam was upset.

“Are you okay?” Cam asks quietly. He can tell it’s actually her asking, and she’s not going to run off and tell Adam what he says the minute she leaves his bunk. “Totally stating the obvious, but you seem kind of bummed out.”

Tommy shakes his head and sighs again. “Fans saying stupid shit,” he says. “I don’t know, I guess I’ve been kind of moody lately. There’s good days and bad days.”

“It’s okay, though. We love you anyway,” she says. She smiles, and Tommy feels a sudden urge to talk.

“When did you come out to your family?” he blurts. “Um. None of my business. Sorry.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Is _what_ what this is all about?” Tommy asks nervously, but he knows she’s caught him.

“You don’t have to be scared of us, Tommy. I get not wanting to tell your family or the fans or whatever, but really, hon. What’s so scary about telling _us_?”

Tommy averts his eyes. “It might get out,” he whispers.

Cam leans in and kisses his cheek. “We wouldn’t tell, none of us would. Hell, half of us know what it’s like. You don’t have to be scared of us, we love you.”

“I’m sleeping with Adam,” he says quietly. He feels her hair shift as she nods. “I’m kind of in love with him.”

Cam kisses his cheek again, softer this time. “That’s awesome. I’m happy for you, Tommy.”

She stays where she is for another long moment, and when she starts to pull away, back through the curtain, Tommy grabs her hand. “Don’t tell anyone. I mean—I’m sorry, I know you—”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She squeezes his hand and leaves.

Tommy listens to her climbing into her own bunk, and then silence falls. After a few minutes, the TV turns on in the front lounge, but the bunk area stays quiet. Tommy looks through the gap in his curtains; the hallway’s empty. He rolls out of bed and tiptoes to Adam’s room.

Adam answers his knock immediately and opens the door wide. “Come in,” he whispers, tilting his head towards the bed. Tommy steps inside and Adam closes the door behind him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Tommy says. “I love you, and I thought it was enough that just you knew that.”

“I’m sorry I got so angry,” Adam replies. “I was overreacting.”

“No, you weren’t. I told Cam.”

“What did you tell her?”

“That we’re fucking and that—that I’m—I’m in love with you.”

“You did?”

Tommy nods. “She said she wouldn’t tell.”

“She won’t.”

“I’m… glad someone knows,” Tommy admits. “But I can’t tell everyone yet.”

“I know, baby.” Adam opens his arms and Tommy moves into his embrace. “I’m sorry I pushed you. I promised myself I wouldn’t, and I just… I forgot what it was like to hide.”

“I want to be like you,” Tommy says against Adam’s bare chest. His skin is impossibly warm against Tommy’s cheek. “I hate being so scared.”

Adam kisses the top of Tommy’s head. “You’ll get there,” he murmurs. “I’ll help you. Come on, baby, let’s go to bed.”

“You still want me to—”

“I always want you to sleep in here with me. Hell, I want you to sleep in here without me, too, but I’m pretty much always in here, so…”

“Well, good.” Tommy pulls back enough to smile at Adam. “It would suck to be in this awesome bed all alone.”

“It does suck,” Adam agrees. “Stay here with me.”

***

Adam cups Tommy’s face in his hands and presses his lips to Tommy’s forehead. “I really don’t want to go without you,” he whispers. “This was our chance to spend time together.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy murmurs. “I wish I could go.”

“It’s not your fault,” Adam says.

Tommy laughs. “Yeah, it is. I’m a fucking idiot, it’s okay to say it.”

Adam rolls his eyes and gives Tommy a look that tells him he agrees, but he won’t say it aloud. Tommy takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I’m gonna miss you.”

Adam kisses his forehead again. “Have fun in LA, okay? See your family.”

“I wish I could go with you.”

There’s a knock at the door, then Monte pokes his head in. “Tommy, we gotta go, our flight’s boarding.”

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” Tommy tells Adam. “I guess I have to go now.”

Monte gives Tommy the ‘wrap it up’ gesture they use onstage sometimes and then leaves them alone. Tommy starts to follow him, but Adam grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Can I kiss you here?”

They’re in a VIP lounge, but they’re alone. Tommy takes a breath and nods.

Adam slowly leans in and presses their lips together in a sweet, somewhat chaste kiss. When he pulls away, Tommy sees tears in his eyes. They were in this same position only a few days ago, when Tommy had to stay behind in Hong Kong, except then it was Tommy crying and Adam comforting.

“This is ridiculous,” Adam says, laughing and wiping his eyes with his fingers. “It’s only a week.”

Tommy nods again. “I gotta go.”

Half an hour later, he’s leaning against Monte’s shoulder, looking across him at the window and the airport outside it getting smaller and smaller. Monte puts his hand on Tommy’s knee and squeezes. Tommy closes his eyes.

***

Tommy stops by his parents’ house—his mom’s house, now—for dinner the first night home. He tells her about playing overseas and meeting fans who don’t even speak English but still know every word of Adam’s songs. He hugs her when she bursts into tears.

When he gets back to his apartment, Mike plies him with beer and Tommy goes to bed before he starts crying over nothing too.

He goes out, putting on a brave face for his friends and the fans, and he spends time with people he hasn’t seen in months. It’s great. It’s awesome. But his heart aches for Adam, like missing him is some kind of medical condition, and Tommy finds he can’t really handle it. He drinks himself to sleep more than once in an effort to numb the pain. He counts down the days until his flight out.

***

  


  
**OCTOBER**   


  


When Tommy hears the opening notes of Enter Sandman, he tries very hard not to flip his shit. Then Adam introduces the song and tells the crowd it’s Tommy’s birthday and Tommy stops holding it in. He thrusts his fists into the air, laughing with delight, and starts headbanging like fucking crazy. Everything about this night has felt absolutely perfect, and this—this incredible gift Adam and the band is giving him—is just like icing on a birthday cake.

Adam’s on the floor for the beginning of the song, leaning over to check the lyric sheets every now and then, and Tommy is fucking _charmed_ by it. He has to look away when Adam starts jerking off his microphone, though. It feels too intimate, watching Adam perform for the crowd like he sometimes performs for Tommy privately.

But then Adam stands up and curls his finger at Tommy, calling him over. Tommy struts up to him, ready to be introduced to the crowd or whatever crazy thing Adam has planned. All Adam does, though, is tell him happy birthday. He tucks his fingers under Tommy’s chin, and that should be a signal, but Tommy’s too strung out on joy that he doesn’t see it coming when Adam leans down and kisses him.

Adam’s tongue dips into Tommy’s mouth. He keeps it pretty light, nothing they haven’t done on stage a million times before, but when he starts to pull away, Tommy’s not ready to let him go. He’s too in love with this moment, in love with _Adam_ to let it end so quickly. He leans up against Adam and keeps their lips pressed together, his tongue flirting across Adam’s teeth. Adam looks a little surprised when they finally break apart, but he lets it roll off him like water and just dives right back into the song.

They all hug him, when it’s over. The band grabs him onstage, and after they walk off, Tommy’s caught in the center of a giant group hug. He’s surrounded by so many people touching him, kissing him, grinning at him, laughing at him, except for the one person he needs most to see. He finally manages to escape the group, and he goes up to Adam and throws his arms around Adam’s neck, stretched up on his toes.

“Thank you so much,” he murmurs. “Thank you so, so much.”

Adam squeezes him tightly and, grinning, tells everyone to get back to the buses so they can start the party. “You would not believe how much alcohol Neil found for us,” he says.

After they all change out of their stage clothes and wipe off some of the crazier makeup, everyone piles into the lounge and starts passing around drinks. Tommy excuses himself to Adam’s bedroom.

When he’s alone, his head clears enough for him to think. His heart is bursting with joy and love for every single one of their troupe, and he can’t keep lying to them. Tommy stares at his reflection in the mirror, at the smile lines around his mouth. He grins wider and fluffs his hair, then heads back out.

Adam gives him a subtle, concerned glance when Tommy rejoins the gang. Tommy smiles and moves to stand next to him.

“You okay?” Adam whispers.

“Yeah, totally.” He grabs Adam’s hand and squeezes. “Hey, guys?”

He slowly gets their attention; they quiet down when they seem to realize he’s waiting to make some kind of speech. Cam notices him clutching Adam’s hand and raises her eyebrows.

“Hey, so,” he says. “I just… wanted to say thanks for tonight, and… I love you all so much. And it made me realize… that I need to tell you… that me and Adam are together.”

Adam stares at him. “Tommy?”

“Seriously?” Isaac asks. Sasha echoes him.

Tommy presses a quick kiss to Adam’s lips and turns to face everyone again. Adam squeezes his hand and Tommy nods. He’s beaming, he can’t help it, and their answering smiles are like a reflection of how happy he feels.

“Oh my god, that’s fucking awesome,” Brooke shrieks.

Tommy’s swept up in another round of hugs and kisses until Neil finally breaks through the group holding out some kind of mixed drink in a gigantic cup for Tommy.

“We’re celebrating,” he shouts. “Let’s get fucking drunk!”

Tommy raises the cup to toast him. “Fuck, yes!”

Later, when he and Adam are stripping off their sweaty clothes and crawling into bed, Adam can’t seem to stop touching him. He keeps rubbing his hand across Tommy’s shoulders, or touching his arm, or holding his hand, or petting his hair. He’s drunk and cuddly, but that’s not all it is. Tommy can see the happiness in his eyes. It’s like he’s glowing.

Tommy cocks his head, watching Adam slide, naked, under the sheets. He hadn’t realized how much Adam had been holding back to keep Tommy’s secret. It feels so nice to be treated like a treasure, like he’s Adam’s boy for real. Tommy throws himself onto the bed and lets Adam pull the blankets up over them.

Adam wraps Tommy up in his arms and holds him like he’s a full-body pillow. “I love you so much,” he whispers into Tommy’s hair. “I just love you so fucking much.”

***

Two days later, Neil hangs around next to Tommy while he’s tuning up his bass. He stands there for a few minutes, idly chatting with Tommy and the people that pass by, then, once they’re left alone, finally turns and gives Tommy a hard stare.

“So,” he says.

“Oh, god,” Tommy groans.

“Yeah,” Neil replies. “It’s my job.”

“Look, man, Brad already gave me the talk. I get it, okay? Hurt him and I die. Not hard to forget. Can we not do this now?” Tommy asks desperately, clinging to the neck of his bass like it can protect him.

“I guess if anyone knows how to make a speech, it’s Brad,” Neil sighs. “But Tommy… Are you really, truly serious about this?”

Tommy nods and doesn’t meet Neil’s eyes.

“Listen, man… I like you, and you obviously make each other happy. I just want you to be careful. He practically worships you,” Neil says quietly. “Please don’t break his heart.”

Adam spots them and hurries over. “Neil! Stop terrorizing my boyfriend.”

“No, it’s fine, he’s not,” Tommy says quickly.

Adam slings his arm over Tommy’s shoulders and Tommy leans into him, relieved. He watches Neil and Adam exchange a few heated looks. Neil gives Tommy a short nod and leaves them alone.

“What did he say to you?” Adam asks.

“Adam, it’s fine, I promise. He’s just looking out for you. A lot of people love you, y’know.”

“I do know that.”

Tommy twists in Adam’s arms and grins up at him. “I’m one of ‘em.”

Adam smiles and leans down to peck him on the lips. “Finish tuning up, Tommy Joe, we’ve got a sound check to do.”

***

  


  
**NOVEMBER**   


  


Tommy doesn’t feel particularly daring when he walks up to Adam while he’s standing on one of the platforms; he only realizes how it looks when the screams of the audience finally penetrate the fog of performing. It all crashes in on him at once, but he doesn’t move away. Yes, his face is level with Adam’s crotch. Yes, Adam’s dick is right there, practically in Tommy’s mouth. Yes, he’s pushing their boundaries. But it feels fucking exhilarating.

Adam’s hand falls to the back of Tommy’s neck and Tommy can feel the tension in his fingers, how much Adam’s resisting pulling Tommy forward. Adam moves his hand to Tommy’s hair, and he’s unexpectedly gentle. Tommy’s shocked by how little Adam is actually playing with all Tommy’s offered up.

He thought Adam would grab his hair, yank him in, grind his dick against Tommy’s face, but none of that happens. Adam doesn’t even thrust his hips. Tommy turns to look at the audience, gives them a pout, and slides down. Adam’s cock is hard; Tommy can feel it against his cheek. It’s like a bolt of electricity shuddering through his body, knowing just how much Adam isn’t playing, and how much restraint he’s showing.

Tommy backs off. He just has to get through the rest of the songs, then he can go scrub his face raw and try to erase what feels like a permanent blush across his cheeks. He’s not sure whether Adam will want to talk about this or not; he’s not sure if he wants Adam to even acknowledge it at all. He wants to retreat to the bus and avoid talking to everyone, in fact. He’d gotten so used to Adam touching him and holding him on the bus, in front of the troupe, that it’s getting harder to resist extending that to the shows.

Adam catches him in the dressing room, though, and locks the door behind them both.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Tommy blurts. “Not on stage, not in front of everyone.”

“It’s okay,” Adam says gently. “You just… surprised me.”

“I’m sorry, Adam, I really am.”

Adam sighs and corners Tommy against the makeup counter. Tommy reaches back and grips the edge of it with one hand. “I don’t know what to do with you,” Adam murmurs. He strokes Tommy’s hair back behind his ear. “I don’t know how far you’ll let me push when we’re out there. I never want to make you uncomfortable, but fuck, Tommy, please don’t put me in that position if you’re not completely okay with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never pushed my dick in your face on that stage, as much as I’ve maybe thought about it. Tonight was all you. This isn’t—” Adam stops short and licks his lips nervously. “Baby, just think about what you’re doing. If you don’t want it to go public, don’t always make me the one that needs to say stop. I’d do _anything_ out there with you, if I knew you were really okay with it.”

Tommy flashes back to the feel of Adam’s hard cock against his cheek and he blushes fiercely. He knows he’s not really ready for it. “Okay, I’m sorry,” he says again.

Adam leans in. He’s whole body is flush with Tommy’s and he’s not hard now, but Tommy’s mind fills in the blanks, a sort of sense-memory that has Tommy gripping Adam’s shirt tightly between his fists. Adam presses their faces together, cheek to cheek, and whispers in Tommy’s ear.

“You’re the one that cares about crossing lines,” he says, so quietly that the words blur together and Tommy almost misses them. Adam turns his head slightly, kisses Tommy’s cheek, and backs away.

He leaves Tommy alone in the dressing room. Tommy lifts his hand and touches his cheek; he can feel the smear of stickiness from Adam’s lip gloss. He wants Adam enough that playing gay to the audience doesn’t even register as crossing a line in his own head anymore. He thinks that maybe he is making progress.

***

“Hey, mom?”

“Tommy! I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s the tour going?”

Tommy smiles and falls onto his back on Adam’s bed, clutching his cell phone to his ear.

“It’s been… awesome. I mean, just, like, traveling everywhere, seeing all this stuff. It’s great. Sorry I haven’t called more, I’ve just…”

“You’ve been busy, I know, honey,” his mom replies. She sounds like she’s smiling.

“How are… things? How are you?” Tommy asks carefully. He doesn’t want to bring down the mood, but he needs to know.

“I’m better,” she answers honestly. “Lisa and the kids are spending a lot of time here, so that’s been nice. It’s good to have a… support system.”

“Yeah…” Tommy whispers. “Mom…”

“What is it?”

Tommy rolls over and stuffs one of the pillows under his chin. It smells like Adam’s shampoo. “I just wanted to tell you…” he says slowly, “that… I guess…”

“Tommy?”

“Everyone’s been really nice. I mean, really awesome, really good about… taking care of me, after Dad… y’know. They’ve been really good to me.” He takes a deep breath. “Adam’s been really good to me.”

“That’s so nice of him,” she says. “It’s good that you’re with people that care about you.”

“Adam cares about me,” Tommy whispers. “He…”

“I’m sure he’s really busy, too. I’m glad he’s taking some time with you.”

“He’s a good person. He’s really—he’s important to me.”

There’s a pause; Tommy hears his mother draw in a breath, but she doesn’t speak right away. He closes his eyes tight, waiting.

“I didn’t know you were so close with him,” she says. “You never really talk about him.”

“He’s my—We’re—” Tommy’s throat closes up a little. It’s suddenly hard to talk.

“Honey?”

“He’s my best friend.” Tommy feels sick as soon as the words leave his mouth. It’s different, now that he and Adam are out to their friends. It feels more like lying now and less like hiding. He scrubs his hand over his eyes. “I have to go, okay? I’m sorry. I’ll call again soon. I love you.”

He thumbs off his phone and hides his face in the pillow.

Adam finds him later, curled up in the bed with the covers pulled up to his ears. He sits down and touches Tommy’s shoulder gently.

“Hey, there you are. We’re heading out to grab lunch, are you hungry?” he asks quietly, like he’s not sure if Tommy’s awake.

Tommy considers ignoring him and pretending to be asleep, but then Adam’s thumb starts rubbing tiny circles on Tommy’s shoulder and Tommy’s overwhelmed by a wave of guilt. He rolls onto his back and looks up at Adam. His eyes must be red and puffy, from the worried look Adam gives him.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“I couldn’t do it,” Tommy whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t do what?” Adam asks gently.

“I was on the phone with my mom, earlier,” Tommy explains. “And I… I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I just—I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t tell her. I’m so sorry, Adam, I’m sorry, I _wanted_ to.”

Adam’s quiet for a minute. “You were gonna tell her about us? Really?”

Tommy shrugs. “I’m sorry.”

Adam leans down and pulls Tommy into a hug. “Oh, baby, don’t apologize. It’s okay. I still haven’t gotten over being proud of you for telling everyone here. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you, baby. I can’t be mad about this. You’ll get there.”

***

A few days later, they’re in Amsterdam and Adam puts on a fucking amazing show. Tommy’s already looking forward to smoking up later. He’s been unsettled and jittery, and he’s getting desperate for something to mellow him out. And sharing quality weed with good friends always puts him in a better mood.

Adam surprises him, though, and beckons Sasha out during Purple Haze. She gives him a joint and Taylor, from the other side of the stage, follows her lead and takes his out to Tommy. It looks like the party’s starting a little early, and Tommy is fully backing that plan. He takes the first drag right from Taylor’s fingers.

As Adam sings, Tommy starts feeling the haze take him over, and he surrenders to it. It’s so relaxing to let go of his worries, even if it’s just for tonight. Adam’s on fire, they’re all on fire, and he’s glad to finally be able to enjoy it.

Adam tells them to start up Whole Lotta Love. “Real sexy,” he says. It takes them all a minute to catch up and get into the song, but Adam commands the stage, smoking and fellating his microphone and wandering around the stage, rolling his hips.

Adam’s voice washes over Tommy; the music flows through him, and he channels it through his fingers on the strings, carrying the melody with Isaac’s drums thudding along to Tommy’s heartbeat. He loses himself in the sound of Adam’s wordless vocalizing. He’s only dimly aware of what’s going on around him; all he knows is what he’s playing. He’s feeling it through his bones, like he’s part of his instrument.

He looks up. Adam’s there on the center platform, watching him with an intensity in his eyes that Tommy’s only seen from Adam in the bedroom. He feels pulled into it, like Adam’s magnetic, and Adam clearly knows what he wants and how to get it. Tommy leans up for the kiss he knows is coming, but instead of something fast and dirty like they did in the first verse of Purple Haze, it starts as just a slow press of lips, the easy slide of Adam’s tongue taking over Tommy’s mouth. Before Tommy knows it, he’s bent backwards over the platform with nothing but Adam’s hand between his shoulderblades to keep him from falling over.

Tommy lets go of the audience and focuses on Adam. He’s so hard already, and he actually reaches down to touch himself for a brief second before he regains his senses and grabs the neck of his bass and tries to resume playing. Adam’s hand comes around, and for a moment Tommy thinks he’s about to grab Tommy’s dick as well, but Tommy’s bass gets in the way, and Adam’s still holding his stupidly glittery microphone, anyway. He rubs the microphone against the strings and Tommy shudders under him, overcome with the single-minded desire to get off, to get Adam off, to get naked and keep kissing like this for eternity.

Adam leaves him, then. Tommy flounders for a second, thrown off by how fast Adam backs off, and then Adam’s on his knees, writhing around on the floor, and Tommy goes up to him and thrusts against his shoulder before he can think better of it. Jesus Christ, he’s hard, and Adam is such a fucking tease. He tries to communicate that, and he thinks Adam probably understands him, from the smoldering glance in his direction a moment later.

Tommy tells himself he just has to last through the encore. He gets his head in the game to finish the song and end the show.

***

“Fuck, Adam,” Tommy groans the next morning. “There’s videos of last night all over the fucking internet.”

“Of course there’s videos,” Adam replies, not even looking up from his book. “There’s always videos.”

“Have you watched them? Do you have any idea what you did to me last night?”

Adam glances up and smirks. “I know what I did to you in the dressing room after.”

“Adam! Did you see how we looked up there?” Tommy asks shrilly.

Adam finally puts his book down, after a put-upon sigh. “Fine. Okay, I’m listening. What’s the problem?”

“You bent me over backwards and—”

“It’s not like we haven’t kissed onstage before,” Adam interjects snidely, rolling his eyes.

“Not like _that_ ,” Tommy insists. “That was fucking—I don’t even know, fucking—That was _fucking_ , Adam.”

“If I’d fucked you onstage, I don’t think youtube would allow those videos,” Adam says.

“ _Adam_. Fuck you, okay, you’re not even—”

“I’m not what? I’m not pissed off? No, I’m not. Why would I be? I kissed you in front of the audience. Big deal. I’ve done that at practically every show. It’s no different to them; kissing is kissing.”

“It’s different to _us_ ,” Tommy hisses. “It’s different.”

“It’s been different for me since you told me you loved me. Last night was not _different_.”

“My mom doesn’t know yet,” Tommy finally admits. “If she sees this—and she will, okay, your fans are fucking crazy and she _will_ see this—she’s going to know. She’s gonna know, like, instantly.”

“And what? Why is that a problem? You were going to tell—”

“I haven’t told her yet,” Tommy interrupts. “And what if I never want to? What if I want to keep it secret from her? I can’t, now, because of… that!”

“Oh my god, Tommy, just fucking _tell her_.”

“I can’t!”

“All you gotta do is say it. She loves you to death, baby, she’s not going to disown you or anything. The only thing getting in the way is you being too fucking scared to admit it. Just say it.”

“I can’t just say it,” Tommy argues. “I have to ease her into it! Give her time to fucking adjust. It’s weird, alright? I’m almost 30, and it’s not like I’ve avoided girls all my life! She can’t just _accept_ me being gay at the drop of a hat.”

“I wasn’t talking about _her_ ,” Adam replied pointedly.

“Then… then what the fuck—”

“ _You_ , Tommy. You are the one who can’t accept being gay.” Adam comes closer and holds Tommy by the arms. “She’s your mom, baby, she loves you. She’ll always love you. You need to accept yourself before you try to win over anyone else.”

“I’ve—I’ve accepted myself!” Tommy protests.

Adam cups Tommy’s cheek and shakes his head slowly. “No, you haven’t. When you stop being scared of it, that’s when you’ve accepted it.”

Adam opens his mouth to say something else, but after a few seconds of silence, he just leans down, brushes his lips gently across Tommy’s cheekbone, and leaves the room.

***

  


  
**DECEMBER**   


  


The tour ends in a whirlwind of shows and signings and then it’s just… over. There are a few appearances scheduled before the official end of the tour, then the two homecoming shows in LA, but… everyone just goes home. They try to adjust to normal lives again; it’s like a trial period.

Adam stays in Paris, so Tommy can’t go home with him, but going back to his shitty old apartment feels strange. Mike tells him he’s been found a new place, one just the two of them can share, but they can’t move in yet. For three days straight, Tommy hibernates in his bedroom, watching DVDs on his laptop, and pretends he’s back in Adam’s room on the bus.

He starts jamming with Mike again—Mike excitedly shows him the lyrics and melodies he’s playing with, and Tommy falls into the familiar groove of working with him—and goes out for drinks with a few people he hasn’t seen all year. He has to learn how to be social again, and it’s strange. It takes getting used to. He misses his glamily. He misses Adam.

Tommy misses Adam a _lot_ , which is faintly ridiculous considering it’s only been about a week since they last saw each other. He misses Adam doing his vocal warm-ups and reading stupid books all the time, he misses Adam hugging him while Tommy’s making coffee in the mornings, he misses Adam kissing him almost every night in front of hundreds of people. He misses Adam’s companionable presence. It’s too lonely without him.

Tommy’s mother comes over with cookies and lasagna when he and Mike finally start moving into their new place. She helps them unpack and tries to chit-chat with Tommy, ask him about the end of the tour and everything he’s gone through, but Mike ends up carrying most of the conversation.

They’re all sitting around the kitchen counter, eating his mom’s lasagna, when Tommy interrupts whatever Mike had been saying about a cute cashier at the mall. The words “I’m gay,” tumble out of his mouth, unbidden.

“You’re what?” his mom asks.

“For real?” asks Mike.

Tommy focuses on breathing, because otherwise he would probably keel over and pass out. He draws in a breath and glances up at Mike, who looks a little surprised but mostly curious, and then at his mother, who just looks shocked. Tommy clasps his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers together, and stares down at them.

“Me and Adam,” he mumbles, “we got together… We _are_ together.”

Tommy looks up again. Mike gives him an approving nod and opens his mouth to say something, but Tommy’s mother cuts him off.

“But you still like girls,” his mother insists. “This is just one time, just one person. You’ll get over it. You’ll find a nice girl now that you’re back home, and you’ll get over him.”

“I don’t want a nice girl, and I’m not just going to get over him,” Tommy says stiffly.

She shakes her head. “I knew that man would try and—”

“He didn’t ‘try and’ anything,” Tommy protests immediately. “It was _me_.”

For a long moment, nobody speaks. Tommy’s almost afraid to draw in a breath.

“He influenced you, I know he did,” his mother finally says. “See, Tommy, this is why I didn’t want you playing for him. I knew he would be a bad influence on you. He kept kissing you in front of all those people, and treating you like—”

“Mom!” Tommy shouts.

Mike reaches over and lays a hand on Tommy’s arm. Tommy shakes him off and stands up, backing away from the table. “Tommy—”

“Adam didn’t _change_ me, okay? Or, no, he did, but… He made me better.”

“This isn’t better, Tommy, this is—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Tommy growls. “He made me a better person, and he showed me how to accept myself, and now I can finally fucking admit it. I can say that I’m gay, and I can believe it, and I’m okay with it. I’m gay, and I’m in love with an amazing man, and you can’t ‘fix’ me, because this is who I am, and I’m not scared of myself anymore.”

“Tommy, honey…”

“No, okay? Just, no. You can’t change this. This is me.”

His mother stands up and comes around the counter and pulls Tommy into her arms. She looks upset, but she kisses Tommy’s forehead and brushes his hair out of his eyes, then takes her purse and heads for the front door.

“I love you, but I think we both need to calm down before we talk about this,” she says. “I’ll call you tomorrow, baby.”

After the door closes behind her, Mike lets out a huge breath.

“Whoa, man.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy murmurs.

“For what? No, seriously, Tommy, look at me.” Tommy does. Mike holds his gaze for a moment before continuing. “You love Adam?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s not just playing with you? He makes you happy?”

“Yeah.”

Mike shrugs. “Then I think it’s awesome. You deserve to be happy. C’mere.” Mike leads him to the couch and sits him down at one end. He goes and grabs two beers from the new case in the fridge and hands one to Tommy, then sits down at the opposite end of the couch.

“Can I ask… how it happened? Did he kiss you or something?”

“He’s kissed me a lot,” Tommy replies, smiling wryly. “On fucking TV, too.”

“Yeah, but I mean…”

“I came onto him,” Tommy explains.

Mike looks shocked. “You made the first move? Go, Tommy.” He adds a half-hearted fist-pump, thrusting his beer into the air. “So… you knew you were gay? Why didn’t you… say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to be gay. I mean, I’ve always like, convinced myself that I was straight? Or, like, tried to be straight? I guess I always knew I wasn’t, though. I mean, being with girls has never worked out for me, you know that. And I kept kissing Adam when I was drunk, and he was just, like, okay, we need to talk about this. It took a long fucking time, but I think I’ve actually accepted it now.”

“Well, I’m glad you guys worked it out,” Mike says.

“So… we’re cool?” Tommy asks.

Mike shrugs. “Unless I start hearing you guys fucking in the middle of the night.”

Tommy laughs. “I’ll go to his place, don’t worry.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mike says quickly. “I wouldn’t really like hearing you fucking a chick every night, either.”

“No, I know. It’s cool.” Tommy looks away and covers his apprehension with another laugh. “As long as you’re still cool with living with me…”

“Dude, of course. I love you.” Mike stands up and moves in front of Tommy, bending quickly to kiss Tommy’s forehead. “I’m heading to bed. You should call your boyfriend and tell him all about your awesome new place,” he says pointedly.

Tommy pulls out his phone as soon as Mike disappears into his bedroom. Adam answers on the fifth ring.

“Tommy Joe,” he mumbles. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong? Oh! Oh, shit, it’s early, isn’t it? I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” Adam protests sleepily. Tommy pictures him in some fancy hotel, curled up with his phone under a fluffy comforter. “It’s not that early. Talk to me. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Um… Mike and I moved into our new place today.”

“It’s like, nighttime there, right?”

“Yeah, sorry. You should go back to sleep.”

Tommy hears fabric rustling and then the sound of Adam stretching. “I have to be up in an hour anyway. Tell me about your place.”

“I came out to my mom.” It flies out of his mouth without thought or tact, just like earlier.

There’s a long pause before Adam says, “Wait, baby, say that again, I thought you said something, like, totally different.”

Tommy sighs and lies down on the couch. “No, you heard me. I came out to my mom.”

“For real?”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “I wouldn’t _lie_.”

Adam hesitates again. He sounds more awake when he asks, “Are you okay?”

Tommy nods before he remembers Adam can’t see him. “Yeah, I think so. I just kind of blurted it out. My mom got mad.”

“She did?”

“She said it’s your fault. But I told her it was me. I told her I’ve always been like this.” Tommy blinks away tears. “She said she loves me.”

“Of course she does, baby,” Adam murmurs soothingly. “She’ll always love you.”

“I miss you so much,” Tommy whispers. “Come home. I need you.”

“Oh, baby, don’t cry. Tommy Joe. I love you. I’ll see you soon, for that radio show, okay? And then we’ll go home.”

“It feels like so long.”

“I know it does. Hey, it’s late there, right? Why don’t you get into bed and we can talk until you fall asleep.”

“Okay, hold on.”

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to strip off his pants and shirt and crawl into bed in his underwear. He snuggles his extra pillow, pretending it’s Adam’s broad, bare chest, and pulls the covers up over his head.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m in bed. Tell me something.”

“Anything in particular?” Adam asks gently.

“I don’t know. Whatever. I just want to hear your voice,” Tommy admits quietly.

“I talked to my mom yesterday. Well, yesterday for me, probably today for you. She said she found me a house.”

“Yeah? What’s it like?”

“She sent me pictures. There’s a giant window in the bedroom and, like, skylights in the bathrooms. It looks really nice. What about your place? What’s yours like?”

“I don’t know, kind of basic. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a giant living room. I bought a big TV. Mike said I could hang my posters on the walls out there instead of just in my room. It’s probably not as nice as your house.”

“Tommy Joe… I was thinking…” Adam says, trailing off.

Tommy hums his question. When Adam still doesn’t answer, Tommy huffs and says, “What were you thinking?”

“I know you just moved into this place with Mike,” Adam says slowly. “But I just wanted you… I wanted to give you a key to mine. So you could, y’know, come over. Whenever you want.”

Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “Like… move in with you?”

“Not completely, if you don’t want to. I totally understand, you just started living with your friend, and it would be totally bitchy to just disappear on him, but. Yeah. If you wanted to, you could… leave stuff at my place. Um, sleep at my place. Obviously.”

Tommy smiles. He can almost feel a bubble of happiness surrounding him. “That would be cool.”

“I’d really like you to be with me. Um… Always.”

“Can’t think of anywhere better.” Tommy stretches and rearranges his limbs on the mattress, trying to get his feet untangled from the sheet. He closes his eyes and hears Adam sigh with relief.

“Thanks, Tommy Joe.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. I’m proud of you. Sweet dreams.”

***

Of course the first hometown show is amazing. They all have family and friends in the crowd, and the fans are absolutely insane, and they’re all together again for one last, big hurrah. The first show is like a big fucking party, and the afterparty keeps going all night. Tommy’s so happy to be back with these people he’s grown so close to over the year, back drinking with them and playing with them and dancing with them. He’s happy that Adam’s finally back home. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to hide from his mother. He’s just happy. Everyone’s happy, and it shows.

Tommy can tell by the energy before the second show that it’ll be just as awesome, just as much of a celebration. It’s their last night together, and they’re going out with a bang.

He makes the decision in the dressing room, while Sutan’s dabbing glitter around his eyes. Sutan says he has so much left over, he might as well use a ton of it now, so he spreads the glitter into the shaved sides of Tommy’s head as well.

“There, you look like a fucking sparkly vampire or something,” he says, nodding with satisfaction.

“Well, at least Adam’ll like that,” Tommy replies, grinning.

“Fuck yeah, he will. You’re gonna be getting laid tonight, baby.”

“I fuckin’ hope so,” Tommy says.

Sutan flashes him another smile as he packs up his brushes. When he turns to leave, Tommy calls his name.

“Wait a sec. Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, baby, you know that.”

“Adam loves me, right?”

Sutan laughs. “Oh, baby—”

“He does, right?”

“You know he adores the shit out of you. He practically worships the ground you walk on, honey. He’d do anything for you.”

“He already has.”

Sutan nods seriously, which confirms Tommy’s suspicions that Adam’s talked to Sutan about their… relationship problems.

“I think it’s time for me to do something for him,” Tommy says quietly.

Sutan fluffs Tommy’s hair; his fingers come away sparkly. “He would like that a lot. He’s a die-hard romantic, Tommy, you know that.”

“I’m scared,” Tommy admits.

“Whatever you do, just own it. You’re on top of the world, Mr. Tommy Joe Ratliff, bass player extraordinaire. Nothing can get you down tonight.” Tommy nods and bites his lip nervously. Sutan takes hold of his chin. “Don’t do that. I’ll have to touch you up. Okay. Break a leg, baby.”

He leaves Tommy alone in front of the mirror and Tommy spends several minutes staring at his reflection. He tries to see himself objectively. He fails miserably. All he can see are the same flaws he’s seen all his life. He’s always been too pretty, but… it works for him now. Adam likes him like this. The fans like him like this. He gives his reflection a pout, then breaks into a smile. He is on top of the world tonight.

Tommy grabs Monte’s arm right before they walk out onstage. Monte looks at him, eyebrows raised, and Tommy leans in close to whisper in his ear.

“I’m gonna fuck up the beginning of Fever,” he says. “Just go with it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Tommy leans away. Monte’s expression turns from curiosity to concern. “Are you gonna…” he trails off and gestures vaguely. Tommy nods. Monte leans in again and gives Tommy a one-armed hug. “We love you.”

Every song up to Fever feels like a countdown. Tommy feels more and more jittery with every round of applause. He knows Adam can sense his nervousness, and that Adam’s worried about him—Tommy realizes he’s acting like they’re in a fight, but Adam will understand soon. As long as Tommy can get up the courage to follow through with his plan and not just ruin the celebratory mood of their last show by playing like he’s on death row.

Finally, they’re playing the last notes of Ring of Fire and the lights go down, and Tommy steps into position at the bottom of the stairs. Monte looks over and meets his eyes. He smiles. Tommy feels a rush of relief and he smiles back, nodding.

The lights come up and Adam struts down the stairs. He gives Tommy a questioning look; he wants this to be big, for their last show, but he obviously doesn’t know why Tommy’s acting so distant. Tommy lets Adam see his grin and Adam visibly relaxes. He turns to the audience to start the song.

“There he goes,” Adam sings, gesturing vaguely towards Tommy, “my baby walks so slow.” He faces Tommy again for _sexual tic-tac-toe_ and Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. He’s going to do this.

Tommy leans in and drags his lower lip up Adam’s microphone until he reaches the top. He cuts Adam off from singing _we both know it isn’t time_ and says into the mic, “It’s time.”

Adam falters. Tommy breaks into a smile and lets go of his bass; he slides both hands up through Adam’s hair and drags him down for a kiss, a real kiss, and he infuses it with as much passion and desire and love as he can muster. Adam laughs into his mouth and his arms go around Tommy’s waist, squeezing him and lifting him off his feet. Tommy’s bass is hard and uncomfortable between them, and it’s probably making an awful noise, rubbing against Adam’s shirt like it is, but Tommy can’t even hear it. He doesn’t let go of Adam and Adam doesn’t let go of him, and they keep kissing for what feels like _hours_ , and all Tommy can think is that this feels _amazing_.

The wild screams of the crowd finally penetrate the fog and rather than freaking out, like Tommy had expected, he feels buoyed by their cheers. Adam spins him around and breaks their kiss, and he’s still laughing; he’s beautiful. He’s _happy_. Tommy mirrors his wide smile and squeezes his arms around Adam’s neck. He can’t hear the words, but he feels Adam’s lips moving against his cheek. _I love you_.

Adam finally gives him a gentle push and they step apart. Well, they step somewhat apart, still touching shoulder to thigh. Tommy finds Monte, Cam, and Terrance all clapping, as well as Brooke and Neil, sidestage. He turns and looks over his shoulder at Isaac and Taylor and the rest of their crew doing the same, stage left. Adam slides his hand down and presses his fingers to Tommy’s hip.

“Tommy Joe, ladies and gentlemen,” he shouts triumphantly into the microphone. “Isn’t he amazing?” Tommy blushes, but he’s not scared. Adam pecks him on the cheek and asks the audience, “Why don’t we start this song again?”

They cheer, and Monte and Isaac take the hint and start at the beginning. Tommy can hear the change in Adam’s voice; he’s so joyful now, rather than uncertain, like before, and he changes the lyrics to ask, “Tommy, would you be mine?”

Tommy nods vigorously and gets a quick, enthusiastic peck on the lips. He can’t stop grinning for the rest of the show.

They kiss again when Adam introduces Tommy to the crowd by saying, “This is my boy, Tommy Joe Ratliff. I love you, baby.” Tommy’s fingers slip on the frets and he has to wait until Adam backs off before he starts playing his solo.

Tommy miraculously makes it through the encore without getting completely distracted by Adam writhing around on the floor, and he takes an extra moment to blow kisses to the fans as he heads offstage. Adam’s waiting for him in the wings.

“Did you like it?” Tommy asks, reaching for Adam’s hand.

“Are you _kidding_ me? Talk about a grand gesture.” Adam’s expression slips and Tommy can see the concern creeping in.

“I’m okay,” he says preemptively. “It was time, and I wanted to surprise you. You told me, a long time ago, that you liked making me happy. Well, I like making you happy, too.”

Adam sweeps him into a fierce hug that lifts Tommy off the floor again. He clings tightly and lets his toes bump Adam’s boots. “I’m so proud of you, baby,” Adam murmurs into his hair. “I love you so much.”

***

Adam takes him home and they go right into the bedroom. Tommy hasn’t even really had time to explore Adam’s new house yet, but Adam assures him it’s fabulous. Tommy pushes Adam down to the bed and laughs when he bounces.

“Feisty tonight, huh?” Adam teases.

“I’m always feisty.” Tommy stretches his shirt over his head and holds it on the tip of his finger for a moment before letting it drop to the floor.

“You are so fucking hot, Tommy Joe,” Adam groans. “You have no idea, do you?”

Tommy pops the button on his pants and slowly undoes the zipper, peeking up at Adam through his bangs.

“Striptease? Should I find some music?”

“Just shut the fuck up, would you?” Tommy pushes his pants down to his ankles and steps out of them, swaying his hips a little. “Jesus, you’re like, the most talkative person I’ve ever met.”

“You gonna shut me up?” Adam asks, smirking at him.

Tommy launches himself at Adam, pushing him onto his back and capturing his wrists in both hands. He stretches them up over Adam’s head and straddles Adam’s hips. Adam doesn’t fight him.

“Maybe.”

“Oooh, toppy-Tommy. Bold claims. It takes a lot to shut me up. How are you gonna do it?”

Tommy shrugs and lets go of Adam’s hands, shifting to push down on Adam’s chest instead. Adam reaches around and cups his ass, his thumbs pulling at the waistband of Tommy’s briefs.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Adam squeezes Tommy’s ass and tilts his head back, looking up at Tommy through his lashes. “You want to fuck me tonight, Tommy Joe?”

Tommy leans his head down and licks a line up from Adam’s collarbones to his chin, savoring the dip at the base of his throat and the rasp of Adam’s five-o’clock shadow. He kisses Adam’s lips quickly.

“I want to suck your cock,” Tommy whispers. “I want to kiss you all over. I want to taste you. I want to hold you. I want to touch you, and I want to feel you inside me. I want to show you how much I love you.”

“I know you love me,” Adam whispers back.

“I want to make love to you. I want to love you, and I never want to stop.”

  


  
**FIN.**   


  



End file.
